


This Bites

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Campaign: Amnesty (The Adventure Zone), Canon-Typical Violence, Flirting, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Light Bondage, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, TAZ Amnesty, Trans Duck Newton, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Bites, indruck, mentions of torture, nothing graphic i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: The town of Kepler, Alaska, is one of many in which humans, vampires, and werewolves live in an uneasy truce. Indrid Cold, vampiric elite and seer, has been brought to town to help keep the situation under control. When he meets Duck Newton, local ranger, he suddenly has a more personal investment in the town's survival.But Indrid isn't sure how to tell the human about his true nature, isn't sure why more threats are emerging on the edges of town.And Duck? Well, he has secrets of his own...
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	1. Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt fill that had multiple requests for expansion.

_From the diary of F. Coppola  
October 5th, 1867_

_Today marks tremendous triumphs, as we at last reached an accord with the accursed souls calling themselves vampires. Their leaders agreed to be moved to the great northern territory of Alaska, the promise of free land and endless night too great to resist. Indeed, many are excited by the prospect. Now we shall have some use for Seward's Folly, and keep the rest of our lands safe._

\-------------------------------------------------

The solution, so simple in theory, cracked the instant the first boatload of vampires set foot on Alaskan ground. 

For starters, there were already humans living there, who were none too happy to have bloodthirsty monsters deposited on their doorstep without permission. They'd learned to navigate having werewolves in their midst, both in the existing communities from those outsiders who fled north for fear their lycanthropy would lead to their death. But the vampires were an unknown (and angry when they discovered the summer days without night). Afraid of being overrun, those who could called upon the werewolves for protection. It took a year of fighting and deaths on all sides before leaders of all three factions, led by a particularly diplomatic werewolf, came to a truce. Peace grew thanks to everyday choices; an intermarriage here, a business partnership there, a human family welcoming their new vampire neighbors to an unfamiliar part of town. Thirty years after the great migration north, it seemed the territory would flourish as an example of human and supernatural harmony. 

Then someone found gold in the Yukon. 

Humans who saw the territory as blighted now flocked to it, bringing with them old fears. It did not help that there were still vampires who drained men dry in their beds and werewolves who stalked lone travelers and slaughtered livestock. But where the territory had rules and understandings in place to deal with such crimes, the newcomers did not. Any attack was taken as a sign to attack any vampire or werewolf in the area. Humans who came to the defense of their friends and family were treated as bad, if not worse, than they were. 

As unrest grew, the spellcasters and soldiers came. Werewolves receded into the woods alone or in packs, vampires drew on centuries of knowledge to vie for power over the situation, and most humans just tried not to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. For every step forward, there were two back; new means of safely acquiring and distributing blood for vampires was met with destruction of the blood banks, which lead to feral vampires and a wave of attacks. And on and on it went.

Some say the government forces did it, brought peace to the region and allowed it to prosper. Others, namely those who live there, will tell you that while cities sprung up and culture and trade flourished, every town stands on shaky ground, one incident away from collapse. 

The citizens of Kepler, in the year 1910 will tell you that when that collapse comes, their town will be at the center of it.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Seer Cold?”

Indrid looks up from his sketchbook.

“Would you care to grace us with your input?” Woodbridge manages a smug scowl. 

He flips back two pages, “I see almost no futures where imposing curfews on the western neighborhoods results in less unrest.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea. There are so many people involved that pinpointing the deciding variable is near-impossible.”

Woodbridge harrumphs, then waves his hand to dismiss the meeting. Were Indrid in the mood to argue, he’d point out that the fact there are ten vampires, two humans, and no werewolves present further limits their ability to know why the idea won’t work. 

Instead, he gathers his things and waits under the awning by city hall while the doorman hails a cab. It’s mid-morning, meaning only powerful vampires can be out and about without fear of an ashy doom. The cab pulls up and the young man holds the door for him. 

“Here you are, Baron Cold.”

He’s long ago given up correcting people on his name; it’s an old world title, for goodness sake. He tosses the boy a few coins all the same. 

The house is quieter than the grave when he arrives. Barclay, his cook and confidant, is at his second job in town, and Indrid has no servants of his own. He just hires them for parties or when he has high-status visitors. He can manage his own clutter and cleaning, thank you very much. 

He hums as he climbs the central staircase up to his bedroom, trades his suit for a more comfortable ensemble, including his favorite thick coat with the fur lining. Then he tosses the ring off his finger, and becomes himself again. 

The disguise charms were his compromise with Woodbridge upon arriving in Kepler; as a high status vampire and a seer at that, he was a target for any who wanted to destabilize their hold on the region. The idea of bodyguards hovering about him at all times made him itch, and so he convinced his peers that if he constantly changed his appearance, no one would be able to track or hunt him. 

Besides, sometimes it’s nice to be normal looking. Indrid remembers his face, has seen it in portraits over the years; white hair bordering on silver, red eyes, smile that was off putting even before he had fangs. He's so unnerving looking it’s as if he was destined to be a monster. 

His work is done for the day, and he's tempted to sleep, or draw in his study. But he’s been cooped up all morning, chasing whatever futures the others asked him too. Some fresh air is in order. 

While his age and power mean the sun won’t set him alight, he can still burn if he’s not careful, and a black sunburn on his arm will give him away as a vampire, something he likes to avoid. His bottle of “Stokers Sun Cream” is half empty when he goes to rub some on his hands and face; he’ll have to get more in town. A clever chemist discovered the formula, one that protects even vampires from the sun for a period of time, in 1800 and made a fortune off of those who dearly wanted to see the sunrise or walk with a human lover through the spring afternoons 

Indrid’s aims are not as poetic; he’s going into the woods so no one can disturb his peace and quiet. The Monongahela forest that lines the south end of the city became a national park ten years ago. Indrid is glad, as this keeps the view from his house pleasant, and meant that the woods could not become homes and thus bring even more beings to the town to get into conflicts. 

He doesn't bother with a disguise when he goes to the woods. No one there knows his name, and if asked he will just use his first name rather than his last. 

His usual spot is on a seldom walked trail, shaded and covered in so many plants that he never runs out of things to draw. 

Which is why, when voices echo closer, he bristles. Can he not even have this today?

A line of children wander in to the clearing, their teacher at the back and one of the rangers at the front. No vampires among them, of course, but he does sense at least two werewolves among the small, curious faces. 

The ranger stops, tilts his head, scans the trees, then points, “there, see that? That’s a Black-Backed Woodpecker. He’s huntin for bugs.”

Indrid follows the line of his finger to a large bird with a bright yellow spot on its head and elegant black and white plumage. One of the children asks what kind of bugs it eats, and the ranger patiently explains. 

“Any other questions?”

Indrid raises his hand, only realizing he’s done so when it’s too late and the man is looking at him. A few of the children snicker. 

“Now now, grown-ups don’t know everythin, and it’s good to be curious even when you’re grown. What do you wanna know, sir?”

“How come it doesn’t hurt them to feed that way? I mean” he points to where the bird is pecking away, “if I hit my head into a tree over and over, it would not end well.”

“Mighty good question. Ain’t quite sure, but when I find woodpecker skulls, they don’t look like a chicken or a lark; far as I understand it, they're adapted to be a little tougher than average.” He smiles and Indrid smiles back, pleased as much by the answer as by being spoken to like a nobody.

“Thank you.”

The man tips his hat, and the group wanders down the trail and out of sight. 

On his way back home, Indrid stops into the little visitor center at the entrance to the park to warm up. In spite of it still being September, the nights are already cold and he gets chilly easily. A downside of being undead. 

“Have a good rest of your afternoon?

Indrid turns, finds the ranger from earlier behind him. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“Kinda surprised you didn’t come with us, you seemed pretty interested.”

“I considered it, but a strange man following a flock of children into the woods might come across as, ah, malicious.”

The man chuckles, “fair enough. If you want a more, uh, reputable option, I’m doin a night tour tomorrow.”

Indrid raises an eyebrow, “you don;t find that dangerous?”

“If you were a vamp, would you wander around a huge fuckin forest just hopin a human turned up?” He catches his own curse too late, cheeks tingeing peek. 

“I suppose I’d stay close to town instead.”

“And werewolves tend to steer clear of the forest, since we’re still sortin out whether them huntin deer is allowed or not. Frankly, we’re in more danger from bears and moose than anythin else, and I know how to handle those.”

“Moose? But they don’t eat humans?”

“You ever seen one up close?”

“No?”

“They’re enormous and ain’t afraid to use those antlers.”

“You are not exactly selling me on this tour.” Indrid tries teasing, gets a smile in reply.

“Everyone comes back alive, that’s a Duck Newton guarantee.”

A future peek tells him that’s the man’s name. 

“It’s a nickname.”

He holds out his hand, “Indrid.”

Duck shakes it, warmth seeping into Indrid’s hand through his gloves. Up close, his smile makes every part of his face captivating, and Indrid wants him to stay longer, to talk with him, to see what it takes to make him smile again. Someone calls for Duck from the next room, and the ranger excuses himself. Indrid waves goodbye, then adds, “See you tomorrow!”

\--------------------------------------------------

The general store sells strawberry phosphates, and Indrid is weighing whether to have one before he joins Duck’s tour. He can manage some human food without getting ill, but he left the pills that help him eat more at home and he’d rather not get sick on Duck’s shoes. 

By the time he decides against the treat, it’s ten minutes until the tour begins. When he arrives at the visitor center, Duck is out front with four other people, smiles when he spies Indrid approaching. 

“Glad you made it.” He’s bundled in a grey green coat, dark hair poking out from under his hat.

“I couldn’t pass up the chance to see and or perish by moose.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint.”

Even though no moose appears, he doesn’t. Duck talks about the woods the way other men talk about art, or wine, or horses. He points out creatures that even Indrid’s eyes miss, tells the group what they are and how they fit into the order of everything. When bats fly overhead, Indrid asks if they’re vampire bats. 

“Nah, those only live in South America. Ones up here are bug-eaters through and through; help keep the mosquitoes from overrunin the town.”

Indrid is relieved; he’s not sure what happens if a vampire bat bites a vampire.

Best of all, the tour arranged themselves two by two as they walk, meaning Indrid ends up alongside Duck, watching the excitement and pride radiate from his face. When they stop to watch a fox scurry across the path, Duck brings him to a halt with a light hand to his shoulder and Indrid tries not to shiver at the contact, at the strength and competence he senses in the muscles running from finger to the arm. 

The tour ends where it began, and Indrid thanks him once again. He sees the answer to his question coming, but wants to ask it all the same. 

“May I come back?”

Duck snickers, “It’s a public space, that's kind of the point.”

“Nono I, ah, I mean, could I come back and talk with you here again? Perhaps on another walk?”

The smile changes, goes softer round the eyes, “Sure thing, Indrid. Welcome to come see me any time.”


	2. Walk with Me

Duck watches his strange, new friend walk his usual path towards town, waving when Indrid turns around for a final glance at him. He’s come by for weeks now, almost every day, sitting in clearings or on fallen logs, talking with Duck whenever the opportunity presents itself. He asks all manner of questions, listens eagerly regardless of whether the answer is exciting or dull. Duck never knew someone else would find the minutia of his work so interesting. 

Now if only he could figure out if the guy is a damn vampire. 

Growing up in West Virginia, there were a handful of supernatural creatures running around. But they were easy to spot, stood out in their fashion and manners or in the constraints of their lives. In Kepler and the rest of Alaska, vampiric traits and dress fads are popular; Indrid’s tinted glasses could just as soon indicate his apparent artistic streak, or maybe even wealth, as they could be hiding red or yellow eyes from the sun. Indrid hardly shows skin, but between the bugs in the summer and the cold in the winter, plenty of folks stay covered. He’s out during the day, but Duck learned early on in his living here that there were vampires who could just  _ do  _ that and they were the extra dangerous ones. And the vamps have such a hold on the town that most shops have windows too high up to see a reflection in them.

The next afternoon comes in a gust of bitter wind, shaking the leaves down in curtains. Duck doesn’t spot Indrid until dusk creeps over the horizon, the other man’s attention on his sketchbook until the ranger is right in front of him. 

“See that Snowy Owl yet?”

Indrid smiles at his voice, “No. I am certain it is wonderful, but I’ve not stayed late enough to get a chance. Winter is coming early and I for one am not in favor.”

One point in the “not vampire” category; most of the humans he knows dread the shortening days, the months where there are scant hours to be out and about without even the weakest of vampires being able to get at them. Never mind that most vampires get their blood in harmless ways. The winter makes everyone skittish.  


“Yeah, ain’t my favorite time of year. Though, uh, it’s got it’s upsides. Speakin of which, uh, Aubrey told me they’re switchin to new food over at Amnesty Lodge. Thought I might try it out tonight. Feel like joinin me?”

Indrid’s grin is so bright Duck flinches at his double motive; even a vampire with those weird pills has trouble getting through a full meal. If Indrid only drinks a glass of wine, he’ll have his answer 

“I would be delighted. Aubrey is a friend of mine, though I do not get to the Lodge as often as I would like. Should I wait for you to finish work, or do you have other things to do in the interim between leaving here and dinner?”

“Wait for me outside the visitor center? I’ll be done in an hour or so.”

The other man nods, goes back to his drawing, smiling all the while. The exact same expression greets him when he locks up the building and steps down into the street. They talk on the journey to the Lodge, Indrid explaining he met Aubrey at one of her magic shows and also knows Barclay, the head cook. When they reach the weather-beaten but well-built structure, Indrid moves without hesitation to a table for two by the fire. Then he stops, toying with the finger of his glove.

“Is this alright? I saw, ah, I mean I assumed it was only you and I, but if you're meeting other friends-”

“Nope” Duck sits down across from him, sighing as the warmth wraps around his chilly shoulders, “just, uh, just wanted to get to know you more.”

It’s not a lie. Worries about the undead aside, Indrid’s said little about his own life during their talks, too busy asking Duck about the birds and trees.   


With the grace of a shot pigeon, Indrid flops into the chair, grinning once again as he sets his gloves aside and takes the menu Duck offers him. When they order, he gets his usual French Onion Soup and a beer, tries not to study Indrid too intently. 

“Hmmm. Hot cider for me, lamb stew, and preserved pineapple. Thank you.”

Duck shakes the tension from his limbs, unbuttons his coat, “So, when you’re not hidin out in the woods, how do you pass your time?”

“When I have my way, art. When I do not, I consult with various government or business offices in town. I have a knack for predictions. What about you? What does Duck Newton do when not hiding among the trees?”

“Indrid, it’s my job to be there.”

“That does not mean you are not also hiding from something.” It’s too blithe a response to scare him, but he wonders how Indrid could hit so quickly on the truth.  


“Hmmm” Indrid taps his chin as if in a pantomime, “knitting perhaps? Interpretive dance? Bullriding?”

Duck snickers, “First one was closest. I like buildin model ships. And, uh, I like gardenin.”

“I must admit my own knowledge of gardening is limited to appreciating its results.”

“It’s trickier than a lot of folks think. Takes all kinds of things to make a healthy garden. Healthy forest too. Too much light, too little water, the wrong place to try and take root, those kinds of things can make it hard for a plant to grow, same as a human.”

“It seems you have an affinity for helping one of those two categories grow.”

“Try to help both when I can. Love takin care of the forest, but Kepler’s my home; I wanna keep it safe, wanna see it grow rather than crumble away.” He takes the beer in front of him, runs his thumb on the rim, “I moved here when I was fifteen, my folks were convinced it was a place to make a good life. It could be. In a lot of ways, it already is. Forest was my sanctuary when we came here. Guess I never grew out of it.” 

Even with the reflection on his glasses hiding his eyes, it's obvious Indrid is listening closely.  


“I, uh, sorry, didn’t mean to get off on a, uh, a whole thing like that. You been in Kepler long?"

“A few years. I wandered around quite a bit before arriving here. I wanted to see what the world had to offer, but material needs reared their heads.”

“Come up here hopin to strike it rich as a miner?” It’s his turn to tease.

“Yes” Indrid deadpans, sweeping his arm up and down in front of his body, “have you ever seen a specimen more built for manual labor?”

“Seen moths bulkier than you.”

“I would like it known I am quite physically capable when the situation calls for it.”

“Bet you are.” He doesn’t mean for his tone to be salacious no more than he means for his eyes to linger to long on Indrid’s lanky frame. It’s nice all the same, trading toothless flirtation by firelight. 

Indrid sips his drink, sighs, “I had a run of, ah, of bad luck and Kepler seemed the best next step. Or maybe it was inevitable that I found my way here, a destiny I could not avoid.”

“Eh, fate and shit ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Bitterness edges around his words, “and some folks give it more credit than it deserves.”

That earns him a new look, admiration mingling with something sadder on Indrid’s face. A flicker of the fire and it’s gone, replaced with a casual smile.

“Even if it is given more credit than it deserves, I am glad fate saw fit to put us in each others paths.”

Indrid lifts his glass in question and Duck clinks his against it in answer, “I’ll drink to that.”

As they eat, Indrid peppers the meal with anecdotes from his travels, offering one in trade for each story of a mishap or misadventure Duck gives him. He’s finishing the tale of the time he accidentally taught a crow to bring him shiny rocks when a new pair of figures enters the lodge. They sit down in a far corner, and there’s no question as to whether one is a vampire. 

“Poor bastard.”

Indrid looks over his shoulder, then quickly back at the table, “The blood servant, I assume?”

“Yeah. Fuckin bullshit, the whole thing. Imagine livin out your days as some vampire’s walkin meal. Don’t care that it’s reserved for the worst of the worst or whatever they fuckin claim, no one deserves that.”

The man in the corner, pale and sickly, rubs a scarred patch of neck while the vampire, well-fed, reads the paper.

“I believe that human was the on who killed that werewolf couple last year.” Indrid pushes his empty bowl aside, “but I agree; there are better ways to repair such things. I know the practice persists as some form of...hmm, a twisted truce, perhaps? More humane than death so it keeps too many humans from being executed but still justice enough to appease the supernatural population.”

“Humane is the last fuckin word for it.”

“Abhorrent would be more accurate, but not everyone agrees with us on that point.” 

“You done?”

Indrid nods, arms shifting to hold his stomach.

“Let’s get outta here then.” Duck tosses their money on the table, doesn’t breathe easy until they’re outside, “sorry, couldn’t keep lookin at that.”

“I understand. Thank you for dinner, how much do I owe you?”

“You can buy next time.”

Indrid’s dull expression clears, “I can manage that.”

“If it ain’t out of your way, we could stop by my house and I’ll get you that bird book.”

“Yes, please.”

Indrid flaps his hands when they arrive at the one-story cabin. Duck takes longer than usual unlocking the door, knowing full well inviting Indrid in isn’t something he can reverse. If he’s wrong about the other man, he could end up with an uninvited midnight guest. Not that he’d mind Indrid in his room late, late at night, he’d just like warning first and to not be dead after. 

“Oh!” Indrid perks up at the ungodly yowling on the other side of the door, “that must be Winnie.”

“Yep, her highness is lettin me know I’m late with dinner.”

“It is alright, refined one, we shall soon remedy that.” Indrid coos in the general direction of the noise.

Fuck it.

“C’mon in, watch your ankles.” He finds the light switch, lamps crackling on in time for him to intercept Winnie's attack on his boots. 

“You know, your descriptors lead me to picture something more regal.” Indrid stares a the eight-pound, fluffy tortoiseshell who looks like she fought a bear. The cat stares right back with yellow bug eyes, then flicks her tail and trots off to where Duck keeps the food. 

The last time there was a vampire anywhere near the house, she hissed at it through the window. The traces of Duck’s worries scamper out the door, and he fetches the bird guide from the shelf.

\-------------------------------------------

“I don’t know why they think this is a good idea.” Duck glares at the curfew announcement stuck to the lamppost, “Not only is it gonna piss off everyone in the western district, it’s gonna get all the wealthy folks in the Northern neighborhoods mad too. Half the people in the western district work in the north and work long hours, so they’re either gonna quit or get arrested for breakin curfew and be late the next mornin over and over again. It’s like no one at city hall’s got the sense god gave a treestump.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Indrid watches him with his lips quirking upward, “and I think you should go to the next town hall and tell them that.”

Duck huffs, incredulous, “in those exact words?”

“Less profanity perhaps, but yes.”

“I’m sure that’ll go real well.”

“I’m serious.” Indrid turns him away from the sign so they’re facing each, “you are very intelligent and you know things about this town that others miss or treat as immaterial. There are people who would listen to you. You could offer valuable input.”

He starts pointing out that Indrid must be even newer in town than he thought, but Indrid seems so sure, is looking at Duck with pride...

“Will you come with me?”

“I cannot. I, ah, I have a prior engagement that night. However, I will gladly meet with you when we’re both done for whatever mode of relaxation you prefer.”

“Lemme think about it.”

Indrid nods, doesn’t raise the question again, doesn’t tell Duck it’s his duty or destiny to go. 

Which is why, three days later, he’s in his work clothes, as free of grime as he can make them, awaiting his turn to speak. 

At the head of the room sit the city counsel, mayor, and advisors, among them the human sheriff, vampiric security advisor (Vincent, who’s always oddly friendly when he and Duck cross paths), and Baron Cold. Duck’s eyes keep landing on him, the seers hands folded in his lap as he studies the crowd. He’s the kind of handsome that’s unreal; honey-blonde hair, strong features, a charming crocodile smile. There’s no trace of humanity, of messiness about him. No ink under his fingers, no un-combed silver-white hair, no limbs that are too skinny or face that’s too angular. 

Their eyes meet. Duck stares, unintimidated, until the vampire averts his gaze.

When the time comes, he tells them what he told Indrid, adds that it might be better to increase the streetlights and safe paths in the western district, as humans would be less jumpy and thus less likely to strike out at any other human, vampire, or werewolf who happened to surprise them.

The vampire Woodbridge, the mayor, makes a disapproving sound and tells Duck to yield to the next speaker, even though several voices on the council and in the room disagree. He returns to his seat, slumping some. 

It was worth a try, anyway. 

\-----------------------------------------

“I sense it was disappointing.” Indrid knows the answer already. Challenging Woodbridge openly in the meeting was too risky, though he did make his glass of blood turn rancid for daring to be so rude to Duck. 

“Hardly let me finish before they were shooin me away. Frustrating, but it’s my own damn fault for thinkin they’d listen.”

“Not mine for encouraging you?”

The scowl melts some, “That too, which is why I’m goin for a walk to clear my head and you’re comin with me.”

“I accept my fate.” Indrid stays close as they walk, his dislike of the cold air defeated by his earlier promise and his curiosity as to where Duck considers his sanctuary. 

They take a side trail into the woods, head deeper into the trees near Murnau Pond. Duck is quiet and Indrid feels no need to speak. While his powers mean he never knows true silence, he enjoys moving in peace alongside his friend. If Duck wants to talk, he’ll be glad to, but he’ll be just as happy to be his companion in thought for the remainder of the night. 

Cold spots form on his cheeks just as Duck looks skyward.

“I’ll be; snow really did come early.”

Indrid studies the way it catches on Duck’s face, the way it dusts the trees and his coat in equal measure. The smile on the human’s face as he watches the world change. 

Can paradise be found in the quiet chill of the night? He did not think so until now. 

He’s so enraptured in the scene that he misses the future shifting, not focusing back on it until leaves and fresh snow crunch behind them. 

A Grey Wolf is no more than ten feet away. He’s never seen one in the wild, and while he knows how to behave around werewolves, their non-human cousins are an unknown. In spite of what myths claim, vampires do not have dominion over all "dark beasts" (whatever that even means), so he can't just command it to go. If it attacks, he'll have to fight. He’d rather Duck not learn of his true nature right now, but if it comes down to that or the human being harmed, he will do what he must. 

The ranger sets his hand on Indrid’s shoulder, “Just stay real still. She don’t mean us any harm.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Her body language is curious, not angry or on the hunt. And if she were lookin for dinner, we’d hear her pack.”

They become a pair of statues as the wolf regards them, sniffing the air and stepping closer before continuing on her way. 

“You didn’t even reach for a weapon.” Indrid murmurs. 

“Just because somethin can hurt you don’t mean it’s goin too. Even the fiercest things deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

“Is that what you truly believe?” Indrid’s fingers itch to take his.

“Yeah. Everythin’s got a place in the world; wolves keep the deer from eatin the forest down, ornery cats keep mice outta the house.”

“And what is my place in the world, Duck Newton?”

Duck meets his eyes, drawls softly “My place.”

The words surprise him. Duck as well, if his expression is anything to go by.

“Let’s, uh, let’s go back to my place. Hate to get you frostbitten.”

The cabin is as warm and homey as the last time, and Winnie is in his lap the instant he sits down. He’s glad he didn’t have to enchant her to be calm around him; some cats and dogs get confused by supernatural beings and react with fear. Duck’s curtains, on the other hand, do need to be magically closed to keep him from seeing Indrid’s lack of reflection. The human didn’t notice last time and doesn’t notice now, too busy grabbing whiskey from a cabinet and offering Indrid a glass,

“Know you prefer sweet stuff, but this’ll warm you up.”

Indrid takes the glass and Duck sinks down on the sofa beside him, leaving no space between them.

“Thanks for comin with me.”

“Thank you for following my advice, even if it did not work out as we hoped.”

Duck sips his drink, tips his head side to side to stretch his neck and Indrid fights the urge to bend over and kiss the exposed skin. Were the world kind, Duck would offer it to him, let the vampire take his time lavishing it with attention before leaving him with a lovebite. It would be bliss to lay down on that warm, sturdy body and spend all night discovering the taste of the human while Duck sighed in pleasure and held him close. 

“Hey, ‘Drid.”

He snaps back to reality, surreptitiously checking for drool. 

“There’s that Halloween celebration week after next, the festival one. Uh, would, uh, would you like come with me? Juno and I usually go but she’ll be in Anchorage visitin her folks.”

“Gladly. In fact, if you wanted to we could-”

A new future emerges and he downs his glass, scrambling to his feet the instant it’s empty, “I just remembered an, ah, an arrangement, a very serious one, I have tonight. I’m so sorry, I want to stay, I just-”

“It’s okay.” Duck is still smiling, “I’ll see you soon.”

He waits until Duck’s house is no longer in view before transforming, his body becoming mist that speeds away from town and up the hill to his home, materializing by the door and yanking it open.

“Barclay!” 

“Kitchen!”

He sprints down the hall, nearly losing his footing on the damned tiles. The cook is leaning on the counter, cup of tea at his lips.

“Do not drink that.”

Barclay lowers the cup, sets it on the counter with a wary look at the liquid. 

“Wolfsbane, someone swapped your tea out for wolfsbane.”

“Oh fuck, glad you got back when you did.”

“Me too. Unfortunately, our troubles are not over. The person who tampered with it is still in the house. In fact, they are--oh dear.”

The cellar door swings open, and a redheaded man steps out, crossbow in hand. In it is a silver-tipped arrow. It could be meant for either of them. And Indrid hates that they’re about to find out. 


	3. Celebration

“Hey, uh, pal?” Barclay raises his hands and Indrid does the same, “there’s, uh, there’s no need for all this. We’re just trying to have a quiet night. And I have work in the morning for someone who will be pissed if I’m dead.”

“Quiet, beast, this doesn’t concern you.”

“The fact you tried to poison him suggests otherwise.” Indrid’s best chance is to turn to mist or to a swarm of moths, but he’d rather not leave Barclay in danger.

The arrow points at his chest, and if fired into his heart it will work as well as a stake. He just needs to keep the attention on him for another few moments. 

“Do I get to know who is trying to kill me?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is-”

Barclay, transformed, leaps over the table. The bow goes flying as he knocks the man down, but their attacker worms his arm loose and draws a knife. Indrid grabs the cook, pulling him back in time to avoid the blade. The man gracefully gets to his feet, lunges forward as Indrid discovers he’s backed them into a corner and that the next strike will hit it’s mark in Barclay's belly. 

_ Bang _

The knife clatters along the ground, it’s owner crumpling onto the floor. Blood pools around him, and Indrid is tempted to drink it as repayment for the man scaring the undead hell out of him. 

“Glad I was early.” The dark shape in the back doorway takes on depth as it steps inside. Snowflakes drop from the shoulders of a brown duster as a shotgun is re-shouldered. Mama, proprietress of Amnesty Lodge, sets her hat on the table.

“No kidding. Uh, Indrid? You can let go of my scruff.”

“Oh, apologies.” Indrid releases Barclay as the cook turns human. 

Mama checks the mans pulse, “Dead.” Rolling him over brings a groan, “dead and a fuckin deputy from Austin. Shit, this is gonna be more of a headache than if he was a hunter.”

“I’ve never even  _ been _ to Austin.” Indrid throws up his hands in exasperation.

“Guess someone in the goverment there means to keep it that way. Barclay, help me get him out of here. He’ll be fine in the snow until we can get into town and get Vincent.”

Indrid cleans up the blood with a rag as they remove the body, opens the cupboard and throws the tainted teabags into the wastebasket. 

“Yeesh, what the heck happened here?” Aubrey stomps her snowy shoes on the mat.

“A human tried to kill me. Not novel, but nonetheless unpleasant. I take it your evening was better than mine?”

“Yep!” She sits down in the chair nearest him, “Dani and I have been looking at dresses; she wants to recreate the one her mom wore, but finding photos of traditional vampire wedding gowns is, um, complicated.”

“I wonder if Thacker’s office has any.” Mama shuts the door after herself and Barclay, “happy to unlock it for you. We’re short one tonight, by the by, Ned says he’s workin late.”

“Halloween does tend to put people in the mood for curiosities.” Indrid takes the seat nearest the fire. 

“I think he just forgot we had a meetin and made other plans.”

“He, ah, was not the only one. I rushed back here to help Barclay, but this all slipped my mind.”

“Get caught up in the futures?” Barclay is now carefully sniffing his other boxes of tea while the kettle boils. 

“Not exactly. I was having a drink with Duck.”

“You mean like a drink” Aubrey mimes raising a cup to her lips, “or a ‘drink’” she points two fingers in front of her mouth like fangs.

“The first one.”

“Yeah, about that.” Mama takes her place at the head of the table, “He know you’re a vampire?”

“No. I plan to tell him soon, it’s just hard to find the right time for such a delicate conversation. But I’m not as worried as I’d otherwise be, as he is friends with Dani, and with Barclay and--oh, oh dear. He doesn’t know? About _any_ of us?”

“Nope. It ain’t news to you, but none of the folks at the lodge have your kind of status, so they stay stealth as much as they can to avoid gettin killed. Which don’t play nice with the fact Duck can’t lie.”

“I suppose it doesn’t” Indrid taps his fingers on the table. He’d thought Duck’s honesty was charming, learning of it when the human tried to say he wasn’t cold enough to need the scarf Indrid offered him, “is that the only reason?”

“I mean, I love Duck, but he’s not super interested in anything weird; he just wants a normal life. I think he’s low-key annoyed that moving up here as a kid put him in the path of all the supernatural stuff.” Aubrey smiles at him, “it’s not like that means you can’t spend time with him. Just, like, be careful.”

He nods. He can do that; the fact he’s lived this long is proof.

“As far as actual Pine Guard business, two more of those bobcat monsters have been sighted. Aubrey and I took one down, but I ain’t sure where the other is.”

“And I’m positive they aren’t were-creatures.” Barclay sets the teapot on the table, “sometimes folks can shift into things that aren’t wolves, but these aren’t even that. It’s like they’re...rotten, or something.”

“We’re gonna concentrate on the woods near the river for the next few days. Here, wrote down everyone’s watch shifts.” Mama pulls out a notebook. 

Indrid writes down his assigned nights, offers his input when asked. But his mind is on a worn sofa in a warm house, and stays there for the rest of the evening. 

\------------------------------------

October 30th comes on a clear, crisp day, and Indrid is certain the festival tonight will be enchantingly bathed in starlight and candlelight. He’s not, however, certain as to whether he should go. 

On a superficial level, he’s hosting a ball tomorrow night. It’s at Woodbridges request, as Indrid’s home is the most stately and thus the well-to-do of the town will feel at home there. A midnight ball on Halloween entered vampiric tradition over a century ago and has yet to fall from favor, and in a town such as Kepler it’s expected to be lavish, a display of his kinds class and wealth. He’s not looking forward to the crowd and the rearranging of the house, but hosting the event allows him some control. He can invite his friends, can insure Barclay gets to make a dinner that shows off his skills and has food to accommodate all manner of beings. All the same, were he diligent in his duties he’d spend the next twenty four hours preparing for the party. 

There’s also the safety element. The attack a few days ago worries him, even though Barclay insists he was the one tracked back to the house and that Indrid’s disguises are still working as intended. Going out in public could be riskier than he anticipates.  


More than that any of that, if Duck can never know his true nature, he hesitates to continue seeing him. No doubt it would be kinder to the human in the long run to leave his life rather than keep such a secret from him. 

The trouble is, Indrid doesn’t _want_ to stop. He’s pacing his study, arguing with himself and getting nowhere, until he decides to let the futures guide him. 

Focusing on the path where he goes, he sees Duck grinning at him, sitting close and laughing at something Indrid says. He changes to the path where he stays home, finds Duck’s crestfallen face staring out the window before he human goes to bed early. 

Kindness in the long run can wait. He chooses kindness in the short term, and grabs his coat. 

The center of town is already bustling, shops putting up garlands of leaves and families sitting on their porches carving jack o’ lanterns. Duck’s house lacks any festive decor, but when the door swings open he sees why. Two pumpkins sit on the table, a knife beside each. 

“Party at the Lodge don’t start until eight, so I thought we could carve these and then work our way up the street. I, uh, that is if you don’t got other plans.”

“I reserved tonight solely for you.”

Duck smiles, sits down across from him and sets to work on his pumpkin. Indrid hollows his out, pausing now and then to keep Winnie from playing in the innards, opts for a simple design. As he’s drawing it on, Duck keeps hopping up to answer the door, offering a plate of treats to the flocks of costumed children. Indrid spies blood jellies among the caramels and necco chocolate drops and wonders, not for the first time, if the others are not giving the human enough credit when it comes to accepting the strange town he lives in. 

When he finally sets the candle in the Jack ‘O Lantern, Duck grabs the gourd and says, “okay, one, two, three, show ‘em. Jesus, ‘Drid, how’d you do that with that little paring knife?”

Indrid looks down at his elegantly scored and shaded forest scene, “I just let it come to me.”

“Makes mine look downright childish.”

He takes in the crooked smile and friendly eyes, “I think it has a rather rustic charm.”

They set the pumpkins on the porch and head up main street. Children dash by in paper hats and false faces, adults greet each from behind masks, and it's as if every inch of the world is bathed in warm orange light. Indrid, caught up in the scene, loses his footing on a patch of stray ice, only for Duck to link their arms, bracing him with a soft “gotcha.” They stay that way until they reach the lodge. 

Aubrey is out front on a small stage, performing for a crowd, Dani cheering proudly at the front of it. When the first burst of sugared air hits them, Indrid is glad he took a digestive pill. He has a fresh doughnut in his face before Duck’s even finished saying his hellos. 

“You gonna save any for the rest of us, sugar?”

“What was that?” Indrid arches an eyebrow and Duck blushes.

“Uh, I, uh, meant, uh, fuck, sugar, uh, sugar fiend? Fuck. Hey, who’s the fell talking to Barclay?” The ranger points at a man leaning against the wall, chatting with the cook as he refills serving trays with toffee apples and checks the punch bowl. 

“He goes by Joseph Stern.” Ned, splash of fall foliage pinned to his jacket, joins them by the fire, “says he’s here researching the history of werewolves. But I get a distinct whiff of government man from him.”

“You sure it ain’t just the hair? That slicked back look is popular in the coastal cities, not just for fellas who serve Washington.”

“All the same, I intend to give him a wide berth until we know him better. He’s only been here three days.”

“Barclay seems to like him.” Indrid watches the cook lean in so Stern can whisper something in his ear.

“Our culinary friend has been eyeing him like he dropped from heaven. I don’t think he’s an impartial judge at the moment.” Ned sips his cider, frowning. 

“You don’t have to work the shop tonight? Seems like the day before Halloween is when everyone wants to see fur-bearin trout and whatnot.”

“That’s what Kirby is for, dear boy. Come, let’s find a seat, I have a story I’ve been dying to tell you.”

Indrid and Duck sit side by side on a sofa as Ned sits in the chair beside them regaling them with his adventures in trying to secure feathers to a rabbit in order to make a “genuine wolpertinger.” Indrid remains amused that in a world with werewolves, vampires, and all manner of supernatural oddities, people will still pay money to see cobbled together hoaxes. But Ned enjoys his work, and it’s the closest the man will ever get to an honest living, so Indrid is ultimately in favor of it. 

Aubrey and Dani enter, Dr. Harris Bonkers on a leash, to eat before the magicians next performance. Indrid’s seen the spellcaster level enemies with ease, yet most people still marvel at her sleights of hand and card tricks. They join the trio by the fire, laughing when the rabbit runs off with a cookie from Ned’s plate. 

The longer he sits with them, the more grateful Indrid becomes that the lodge is not a place for higher status town residents, let alone elite vampires. No one knows him as a baron here, no one save his closest friends knows this is the true face of the seer whom much of the town fears. Here he is simply Indrid, nestled in among all the other humble beings lighting candles against the coming darkness and sheltering each other from the cold. 

When Aubrey starts chanting for Duck to try apple bobbing, the human says he’ll only do it if Indrid is his competition. 

“I hope you know you are the only person I would shove my face in freezing water for.” Indrid kneels by the barrel.

“You get too chilly, promise I’ll warm you up.” Duck grins at him.

“That could take all night.” Indrid purrs.

“Won’t get no complaints from me if it does.”

Indrid shuts his eyes, wills his glasses to stay on, and gets an apple on his first try thanks to foresight. It takes Duck considerably more than that to snag his prize, but he comes up laughing each time. Water drops skate down his neck, and Indrid only refrains from chasing them with his tongue due to the crowd.

“Don’t eat those yet.” Aubrey shoos Duck to the side so she can try her luck, “I want to see who you’re gonna marry.”

“Aubrey, do you seriously believe in that? It makes less sense than even tea leaves.”

“Witch.” Is all Aubrey says before dunking her head into the water.

Once the three of them, Dani, and Jake have apples in hand, they sit in a circle by the fire. The game is simple; peel the apple, keeping the peel in as long of a single piece as possible. When it falls to ground, the belief is that it will make the initials of your true love’s name.

Indrid uses a kitchen knife, Duck the pocket knife he keeps in his jacket. The vampire watches the peel fall and curve into a strange shape. The closest to two letters he can make out are a “W” and an “N.” Well, at least one of them matches with his hoped for answer. 

Ducks peel hits the ground just as Aubrey says, “what does yours look like?” The ranger turns to look at her before looking down.

“...Like a hungry rabbit.”

Dr. Harris Bonkers stares up at them all, unperturbed as he munches the peel. 

“Ooops. Sorry, Duck.”

“Eh, doubt it looked like much. Plus, the little fella deserves a treat.”

Indrid smiles in agreement, and in secret pleasure; in the second before it was eaten, he’s certain that peel was shaped like an “I” and a “C.”

They stay at the lodge until after midnight, walking arm and arm back to the cabin, the Jack O Lanterns still merrily alight in the dark. 

“You wanna come in for a bit?” In the flickering candlelight, the human’s smile is decidedly devilish, and Indrid wants nothing more than to feed that wickedness by following him inside and pinning him to the door. His potential replies come to him in a wave.

_ “I want nothing more. After you.” _

_ “Not tonight, but I’m hosting a ball and would be honored if you would accompany me.” _

_ “I want to kiss you tomorrow at midnight. Please say you’ll come.” _

The bloodstain on the kitchen floor, the strange things in the woods, the warning from Mama all drown out those other futures. The ball is too much, too soon, if he cannot be truthful. And if he cannot be truthful, he’s not sure he yet deserves a kiss from the man before him. 

“I wish I could. But I have an engagement tomorrow that will take all day and all of my energy. I cannot risk a later night. No matter how tempting the company.”

Duck’s face falls, then his smile flutters up like a leaf in the breeze, “Come see me the day after, then?”

Indrid takes Duck’s hand, kissing it once before stepping back, “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, you're shocked that Halloween features in a fic of mine.


	4. Midnight Ball

Technically the ball begins at nine in the evening. Midnight is the highpoint, the supposedly most powerful hour of the most revered night of the year

Indrid, Barclay, and the hired servants have spent the day preparing, decorating the halls and ballroom with purple and black garlands while removing inconvenient items such as mirrors (he’s grown used to not seeing himself in them, but he wishes to offer his guests the courtesy of not giving themselves away).

By nine thirty, the band is playing lively waltzes as couples spin across the floor and friends laugh in small clusters, sipping wine or blood (all ethically sourced, either from banks or from wild game) and tasting the various delights Barclay prepared. 

A downside to wearing a disguise in town is that no one knows he’s the host, and thus no one comes to talk to him. Yes, he did not tell the servants who he was and yes, he’s dodged anyone who might refer to him by his title. But he’s still feeling a bit lonely. 

An absurd, charming laugh catches his ear, and when he locates the source he’s certain his long-stopped heart restarts.

Beneath the chandelier, dressed in a deep brown suit cut to accentuate muscular arms and strong thighs, is Duck. 

He’s talking with Dani and Aubrey, smile dazzling and throat unfairly bared so that the perfumed air, but not Indrid, can caress it. The two women excuse themselves to dance and Duck steps out of the way of the widening swirl of paired-off party goers. 

Indrid brushes off his jacket, straightens his gloves, and crosses the room on clouds.

“May I have this waltz?”

Duck drops his empty glass, Indrid catching it and setting it on a nearby tray.

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid, what're you doin here? I men, uh, know this is technically open to the whole town but this didn’t really strike me as your kind of shindig.”

“It was not until you arrived.” Indrid holds out his hand, “and now it is your turn to answer my question.”

Duck takes it, “Sure you wouldn’t rather have someone else take you for a spin? I got two left feet.”

“I am not known for my grace either, so we will make a fine pair. Or are you forgetting the time I tripped and landed in that juniper and was stuck until you dislodged me?

That laugh again, making Indrid melt like the candles, “Nope.”

“Shall I lead?”

“Only if you promise not to crash me into anyone.”

“I will do my best.” Indrid places hand on his hip, enjoys the warmth seeping through when their fingers link.

After two bars of the song, Duck says over the music, “you look real nice. That suit, uh, suits you.”

“Not half as much as yours does.”

Duck steadies him with the hand on his shoulder as Indrid nearly collides them with another couple, “you here for work?”

Indrid nods “Yes. I almost invited you, but I assumed you would find such an affair stuffy. Now I wish I had, if only to have watched the whole room swell with jealousy when they saw you on my arm.”

“Oh” red blooms across his cheeks and he looks down, which causes them both to elbow an unfortunate passerby, “fuck, sorry. I, uh, didn’t come thinkin anyone would ask me to dance.”

Indrid follows his eyeline, smirks when he sees the ranger is in his black boots rather than dress shoes. He switches to a full-on grin, hoping it conveys the part of him that is so desperately, achingly fond of the other man rather than the part that wants to trap him in his bed and kiss him into submission.

Duck meets his eyes, studies him a beat, then grins right back “Don’t know why I’m so worried about lookin unrefined; anyone with eyes will spend the whole night lookin at you.” The compliment is undercut by Duck sending a chagrined glance at the man whose foot he just stepped on, but Indrid would bowl over the whole crowd if it meant Duck kept saying such things. 

“Would you like to continue talking somewhere less, ah, perilous for us and everyone else?”

“Lead the way.”

Indrid sneaks them out a servants entrance and into the gardens. The moon is bright but the patchy clouds obscure his view of the plants and, more annoyingly, of Duck. As the stone path down into the grounds splits in two, he opts for the left side, as it takes them through the groves planted by the man who constructed the estate. 

“Damn, this is impressive stuff out here. Some of this is real tricky to grow.”

“I admit, I have more appreciation for it now thanks to your tutelage.”

“Pity, looks like there ain’t much upkeep bein done. Startin to look more like the woods than the woods do.”

“Isn’t that a desirable outcome?”

“Not when some if it is invasive. See this” he points to a vine surrounded by dropped pink petals, “it’s real popular in rich people gardens, but if it gets into the woods it starts chokin out the saplings. Nah, place like this needs someone lookin after it.”

Indrid wonders if Duck would like to be the person, and if he’ll accepts kisses as payment.

“I believe there is a Shakespeare garden down this way, though it struggles in the climate here.”

“Yeah, Kepler and England ain’t exactly compatible climates. I swear, the things some folks’ll do to seem clever.” He’s bent over, examining a berry shrub, “plants like this do way better. See, ain’t it just a fine lookin specimen?”

“Indeed.” Indrid is not looking at the plant, but he is enjoying the view.  


They walk for close to an hour, Duck stopping to admire different plants in-between telling Indrid about the herculean task that is maintaining the trails in the Monongahela in the winter. As they wind along a walkway on the southern end of the estate, Indrid spies heavier clouds on the horizon.

“I fear we may need to return inside. It’s going to rain soon.”

Duck sniffs the air, “Smells like it. Wouldn’t mind all that much except this is the only suit I own.”

“Can’t have such a lovely thing getting ruined.” Indrid purrs, taking Duck’s offered arm. 

They make it to the top of the front stairs just as rain patters on the cobblestones, and two younger vampires vacate their seats by the fire just in time for the duo to slide into them. Someone brings them drinks as they talk, Indrid too focused on Duck to notice who it was or what they gave him until he sips and discovers wine, which he does not like. If nothing else, holding the glass occupies his hands so they don’t creep up Duck’s thigh. 

With the exception of occasional glances at the clock or around the room, Duck’s attention is on him the entire time. As the hands of time move closer to midnight, the conversation turns to Indrid’s latest projects

“I’ve been working on a portrait of Dani and Aubrey to give them as a wedding gift. It’s taken multiple tries, but I am finally heading in a satisfactory direction.”

“I’m sure they’ll love it.”

The clock strikes half-past eleven, and an idea strikes Indrid. 

“Would you like to see it?”

“Hell yeah.”

It’s a short trip up the stairs, Duck keeping their arms linked until they reach the study door.

“You ever do portraits of other folks?” His arm is now on Indrid’s waist, the vampire fumbling the nod when breath ghosts down his neck.

“Indeed.” Indrid looks over his shoulder, “are you offering to model for me, Duck?”

“Depends on the kind of modelin.” Duck grins as Indrid finally opens the door.

The wedding portrait is towards the back of the room, and as he’s halfway to it he stops at his desk for his notebook. Duck might also enjoy his latest sketches from the woods. The lock clicks behind him and he smirks; he won’t need to use the rain as an excuse for Duck staying the night at all. Clearly the human is as eager for this as he is. 

He’s debating which drawings to share when Duck grips his upper arms, spinning them face to face.

“Indrid, look, we ain’t got much time. We gotta get out of here.”

“I…I do not understand.”

“Look, I don’t know how you ended up here, but this party ain’t what it seems. And, uh, I ain’t exactly either. This is a fuckin vampire ball.”

“And you are a…?” He’s certain Duck is not vampiric, but the fact he is human is hardly a secret. Unless….

Oh no. 

“I’m here on a mission, it’s a long story, but I’m a, uh, a vampire hunter.”

Oh  _ no _

Indrid looks at the future, something starry eyes kept him from doing sooner, and steps out of striking range.

“I’m supposed to take down the vamp who runs this place, but I ain’t been able to spot him, which means he might know I’m here. I’m gonna make a break for town, and I want you to come with me. Aubrey and Dani, I trust them to handle themselves, and as far as I know neither of them are on this fella’s bad side, so they’re probably safe. But if he’s seen me, he’s seen you, and he mighta put two and two together on you bein important to me.”

“Duck, I can’t-”

The human steps forward, trying to take a hand the vampire refuses to offer, “Indrid, please, come with me. I, I can’t stand the idea of you bein where Baron Cold can get you.”

“I” he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, “I appreciate your concern Duck. But I promise you I’m in no danger from the baron. After all, I have no intention of harming myself.”

—————————————–

See, this is why he kept telling Minerva he wasn’t cut out for this. Because not only has he spent over a month in close company with a vampire and not know, he’s been fucking romancing the guy. 

Indrid must have worn a glamour the last time Duck saw Baron Cold in town. He’s been working from the wrong image the whole time, and he’s not sure if he’s angrier at himself for not thinking of that possibility or at Indrid for being smart enough to come up with it. 

“You gotta be fuckin kiddin me.”

“I wish I was.” Indrid’s lips twitch into a frown, “just as I wish you were joking about coming here to kill me.”

“It’s gotta be done.” Duck says more to himself than to the vampire.

“No, it really doesn’t. For goodness sake, Duck, thirty seconds ago all you were concerned with was my safety! I, you’re my  _ friend _ .” 

“Yeah, because you probably put me under a fuckin thrall or some shit!”

Indrid’s face changes, all traces of hope or affection leaving it as he says flatly, “I did no such thing. Believe me, if you were under my thrall, you would know.” 

Duck pulls a small stake from the trick pocket inside his coat. Indrid hisses, moving so the desk is between them. 

“You cannot possibly want to do this, please, you can’t really believe I am a monster.”

He doesn’t dare answer, in case the truth comes out. He moves his foot forward but before he can get in another step, Indrid slides his glasses down his nose, revealing red eyes. 

“You will not move.”

His muscles lock up, his feet turn to lead, and he gets bitter confirmation that his feelings for Indrid come from no one but Duck himself.

“As I said, my thrall is very obvious.” Indrid plucks the stake from his hand, tossing it into the fire. Pats down his sides, roots through his pockets and the tops of his boots, muttering all the while.

“Foolish…distracted…should have known….rude human.” He punctuates the last words by hurling Duck’s sword (disguised as his belt) out the window, the horror on his face likely the result of knowing Duck wore that many of the times they were together. 

“Hey, I ain’t the one bitin folks.”

Indrid whirls, snarling, “I have not taken blood from a throat for years.”

“And you were gonna do what once you got me up here?” Duck manages to cross his arms. 

“Show you those drawings! I thought you wanted to see them.” The vampire has the audacity to look hurt.

“I did.” The truth darts out before he can stop it, and so he covers with more annoyance, “But I don’t buy that was really all.”

“Fine, if you must know, I was going to suggest that you spend the night here on account of the weather, and perhaps you would like to do so in my bed. You know, a very similar tactic to the one you tried on me last night.”

Yeah, okay, he was  _ definitely  _ going to bite him. 

The mention of last night jars both of them, Indrid from his anger and Duck from his thoughts. 

“Just” Indrid hugs himself, “just go. I will let the thrall down, and not alert anyone to your presence. Or to your secret.”

His body comes under his control once again.

He didn’t spend years resisting his destiny just to fuck it up on the first go.

A half-second before Duck moves, Indrid says, “Don’t you dare.”

Duck’s already committed to his attack. If he can at least subdue Indrid and get him into town, he might be able to make his case to the other, might be able to keep Indrid and the town safe at the same time

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his plan. Indrid grabs him and spins him with significant strength, slamming him into the bookcase. His right arm is twisted behind his back and the left is pinned, splayed out beneath Indrid’s gloved fingers. Apparently all the Chosen strength in the world can’t help him against a pissed-off vampire. Some fucking help his powers turned out to be.

“That.” Indrid growls in his ear, “was not polite.”

“Would you knock it off with all that manners bullshit and just get it over with?” He mumbles into the hardcovers.

“Get what over with?”

“The thing you brought me up here for.” He turns his head, glaring at the vampire who, for his part, looks confused. Then Indrid grins, bringing his mouth dangerously close to Ducks neck. 

It snaps up at the last moment and cold, but very lively, lips connect with his, Indrid humming when Duck turns his head to deepen the kiss. He blames his heart, blames the hours spent dreaming of this, blames Indrid for not turning into some horrifying, heartless creature the instant Duck learned the truth. 

The vampire pulls back to nuzzle his cheek, “ _ That _ was what I hoped for from you. But since you seem rather, ah, fixated on the biting..”

“AH!”

A chuckle vibrates up his neck as Indrid latches onto it. Duck clenches his teeth, terrified that if he speaks, he’ll ask for more.

When Indrid releases the skin, the hunter stares at the bruise. 

“There ain’t any holes.”

Indrid lazily kisses his face, “I only do that with permission.” He gazes at Duck over the rims of his glasses, “is that something you wish to give me?” The hands lift from his wrists, the weight from his back.

“I want” he rests his forehead against the books, “I want to know what it feels like, I want you that close. If you, uh, if you want toFUCK, ohgodohfuckAHhnnnn.” His whole body tenses when the fangs sink into the base of his neck, and for a moment he worries he’ll pass out in Indrid’s arms. 

Then the steel in his spine melts, pleasure rushing in to replace it, dripping into every vein. His fingers flex and curl helplessly, Indrids hands too busy forcing Ducks chin up and clinging to his waist to hold them. 

He’s never been this turned on in his goddamn life, and wishes he’d learned this about himself any other time but now, with anyone other than a vampire who has three hunters guilds, one assassin network, and two governors hungry for his head. 

Memories bubble up beneath that wish; Indrid in the hours prior, laughing and smiling when Duck told stories or bad jokes. The way his bony frame felt pressed against Duck on the lodge couch last night. The way a single kiss on the hand made Duck want to pull him into bed.

He moans, squirming in Indrid’s hold, tipping his head further to the side. 

He’s lost and doesn’t have it in him to care. 

The vampire isn’t faring much better, groaning into the bite, the hand on Ducks shirt gripping tighter and tighter. There’s a burst of pain and Duck gasp, but just as it becomes too much the groans and growls turn to a purr, the teeth retract from his skin. Soft licks and gentle kisses take their place.

“Is, is it always like that?”

“No. It is neutral to pleasant in most cases.”

“So wh-what the fuck was that?”

“At a wild guess, you are discovering some new and interesting things about yourself.” Indrid grins like a fox with free reign of a henhouse, “would you like to learn more? Or would you like to go?”

“More, fuck, Indrid please I, I want,-” he’s not certain what he’s trying to say, only that he needs Indrid to understand how badly he wants this to continue.

Indrid kneels, sets a hand on the small of his back, “Stay.”

The vampire makes quick work of his suspenders and pants, yanking them down to his ankles. Black gloves land near his left toe just as cold fingers caress the back of his legs. 

“Mmmmmm, has anyone told you these” he squeezes, rubbing his thumb into the inner part of his thighs, “are downright sinful?”

“N-not for awhile.”

“A shame.” Indrid nips the left side of his ass, snickering when he swears. His right hand slips between Duck’s legs, rubbing his dick once before teasing up and down his folds.

“My, my, that is flattering. A handsome hunter, wet just for me.”

“Indrid, I swear, if you don’t stop teasin I’m gonna get my cross from wherever you tossed it.”

“I don’t think you are” Indrid rubs more roughly, neither touching his dick or sliding inside, “I think you are going to stay right here and let me sample this” he slaps Duck’s ass lightly, “for as long as I like.”

Duck giggles, “sample? It ain’t a whiskeyEEh, fuck, oh fuck me.” He thunks his head into his forearm as Indrid scatters bite marks across the sensitive skin. He’s not taking blood with them, though when Duck sneaks a glance the vampire purrs at the purple and red bruises as they bloom. 

Three fingers push up into him and he yelps, surprised.

“You did ask me to fuck you.” Indrid’s tone is level even as the slick sound of his fingers fucking him fill up the room. 

“It, it was, AHHnnn, a figure of, of speech, you, you fuckin-”

“Choose your words carefully, my sweet.”

“–unfairly good lookin menace of a vampire.”

He’s spun fast enough to get dizzy, still trapped against the shelves by Indrid’s hands on his hips.

“I’ll show you a menace.” Is all he says before closing his lips around Duck’s dick, fingers curving and thrusting inside him.

“You, y-you, fuck, and I got real different definitions of menaceOhhhhhh yeah, fuck yes, Indrid, that’s so good,” He cuts off into whimper when Indrid’s head dips down to bite his inner thigh. Threading his fingers into silvery hair gets him another bite and a moan of approval, Indrid continuing to rove his mouth between his dick and his thighs, sounding all the while like he’s enjoying a gourmet meal. 

“Sh-shit, Indrid, I’m close, keep doin that, please _ please _ ” just as the orgasm starts building, Indrid pulls away, sitting on his heels with his hands in his lap.

“Is somethin wrong?”

The vampire stands, hands caressing Duck’s hips, cock hard beneath his dress pants,“There are rules, sweet one. Humans who try to kill me do not get to cum.”

Duck whines, only to have Indrid shush him like he’s a fussing dog before kissing him. That only makes him harder.

“I, however, do get to cum” Indrid undoes his fly, “using whatever method I see fit.”

There’s a tremendous ripping noise as he grabs Duck’s left thigh, pulling it up to hook precariously around his hip, as Duck’s still-booted foot tears out the cuff of his pants. 

“And you, dearest hunter, are the method I prefer.”

With that, he shoves his cock into him, dropping his head to kiss his neck as a Duck moans without caring who hears him. 

“Goodness, it’s been so long since I had my way with a human. I forgot how warm it is.”

“Warm you up whenever you want darlin.  _ Fuck, _ fuck” He tries to hold his own weight but it’s getting harder. All he wants to do is go limp and let Indrid take whatever he wants. His head is swimming with the slap of connecting skin and the protests of the bookcase, with Indrid’s moans as the vampire noses his neck. 

“Ah, this will do nicely.” Indrid murmurs against his burning skin.

That same moment of complete tension, his body reacting to the teeth piercing his flesh. He tightens around Indrid, weakly bucks his hips in search of relief as the vampire switches to furious, sharp thrusts. Several books hit the floor, shaken free by the force, and his vision swims just as Indrid releases his neck with a messy gasp. 

“Nmmm, I hate to stop, but I hate even more for you to grow weak and faint. After all, I need you awake until I am finished.” He presses Ducks thigh up, the angle borderline painful, as his hips stutter. Duck’s nails dig into the wooden shelf as Indrid’s words sink deeper and deeper into his core. He moans at the thought of letting the vampire fuck and feed from him until he passes out, of being helpless in a bed somewhere, his world starting and ending with-

“Indrid” he whimpers as the vampire cums, slamming all the way in and grinding with high gasps as he finishes. 

Slowly, his foot finds the ground and Indrid holds him closer, both of them panting. Duck wraps his arms around his waist, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of his jacket. 

“You really ain’t lettin me cum?”

“I believe my rules were quite clear.”

He sighs happily, the denial somehow just as pleasant to his mind as the completion would be. 

Indrid smiles as he presses a kiss to his temple, laughs softly when Duck gives one to his shoulder in response. 

“Guess this explains some things. Like why you’re always so damn cold.”

“You must admit, it makes an excellent excuse for me to sit close to you. My wonderful, warm ranger.” Slender fingers toy with his hair and he loses himself in the strange melody Indrid hums, in the heartbeats in his ear.

No, not heartbeats. Heartbeat, singular, because the one he’s supposed to drive a stake through fell silent long ago.

He feels so safe here, Indrid draped around him, that reality’s return is akin to a knife in the gut.

“What happens now?”

“Well” Indrid pets Ducks hair, “as of this moment, there are two futures; you depart, are scolded by your fellow hunters, and return next week with the same goal that brought you here tonight. Or, you prove just as stubborn as you were during our argument, and come back to me tomorrow evening, heedless of your mission.”

“Seems to me there’s one of those you’d like me to do.”

Indrid steps back, still holding him but able to more easily meet his eyes, “There is one I would prefer, yes. But ultimately it is not up to me to tell you which path to take. Your destiny is yours to decide, even if you decide something that does not work in my favor.”

This is too heavy a conversation to get into with his pants down. Not when he’s not sure what the right thing for his town, his friends, himself is. Not when Indrid is still so close, his smile blood-tinted but the still the same one that Duck dreams of waking up beside. 

He knows what he wants, just not what he should do.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

Indrid nods ,guides him in for one final kiss, soft and sweet as a sunrise, “That is all I ask.”

—————————————–

He watches Duck from the bedroom window, his figure growing fainter the further he gets down the road.

Then the human turns, pausing long enough for Indrid to realize he sees him. Not knowing what else to do, he waves.

Even from this distance, his night vision lets him catch the flash of that smile. The hunter blows him a kiss, which he pretends to catch.

There are so many things that worry him, so many things he did not tell the human, so many futures where things do not go Indrid’s way. 

So many, and they all matter so little when compared to the kiss, tucked safely in his palm, that he holds against his heart.


	5. What You Don't Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duck gets interrogated in this chapter. It's not graphically described, but I wanted to give a heads up.

Duck doesn’t come back the next night. 

Indrid watches the futures, finds no sign of him coming the next week to attack him. 

They are now in the worst of all possible scenarios: Someone, most likely Duck, cannot make up their mind about a crucial decision. This leaves Indrid in limbo, unable to plan and restricted in his actions. It also hurts; while he meant every word of wanting Duck to choose his own fate, some silly, lovesick part of Indrid hoped choosing him would be easy for the human.

He hasn’t told the others that Duck is a hunter. None of them are high enough status to warrant coordinated extermination. And he wants it to be Duck’s choice to come clean with them. Too, the fewer people know the truth, the easier it is for him to ignore.

Two days after the ball, he’s halfway to his normal spot in the woods when he realizes that if he and Duck encounter each other, it might force the matter in ways he cannot anticipate or does not want. When he has a meeting that night, he stays a mist until he’s in the backroom of city hall.

The next week and a half is spent inside, drawing, pacing, drawing some more,  _ pacing  _ some more, sipping the blood soda Barclay makes him, and wishing the human would make up his damn mind. 

When the city council convene for an emergency meeting thanks to reports of increased unrest on the roads between Kepler and the coast, Indrid considers faking his own death. The meeting is unlikely to be engaging, which means he will still have the problem of his thoughts circling his head like a lost hiker following his own footprints in an endless futile loop. Now he’ll have all that a _ nd _ Woodbridge’s droning to make him miserable. 

As he’s sketching and trying to remember what Duck said about the families who controlled the roads to the coast, the futures flash with stakes and ashes, with a list of names and, as he follows the chain of events more clearly, with an address.

It takes a moment to generate the building on paper, then he interrupts Woodbridge without a second thought.

“I have something you all need to see. Something we must act on at once.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

_ “You are certain he was not there.” Minerva rubs her chin, studying Duck.  _

_ “I got a good look at him when I went to that town meeting. The whole time I was there last night, I never saw that face.” _

_ “Hmmmm. He’s craftier than we gave him credit for. No matter, the plan can be changed.” _

_ Duck nods, tightens his scarf under the pretense of the drafty room to hide the bite marks. He’d spent the time he should have been shaving that morning tracing them with his fingers, savoring the memory of Indrid kissing them when he’d finished feeding. _

It’s taken well over a week for them to develop a new plan. Originally, the first stage was to remove Baron Cold from the picture. The thinking was that any increased security due to his death would be made up for twice over by the fact the vampiric elites now had no seer to warn them of danger. Cold’s death would also serve as Duck’s full initiation into the hunters guild; his first slaying. 

Trouble was, while he was busy training to end Baron Cold, Indrid was busy building a nest in Duck’s heart. 

He knows Indrid hadn’t flirted with him to get one over on a hunter; he’d been as surprised by the revelations of Halloween as Duck was. But did he have to be so damn intriguing, with a smile that made Duck a teenager again and a kiss that could melt the north pole?

He got so close to going back the night after the ball. But he couldn’t shake the image of humans with their throats ripped open. Of long, undead fingers wrapping around the town, choking down the movements of it’s citizens until Kepler was as good as a prison. Of all the gory details cloaked by the words, “I haven’t taken blood from a throat in years.”

Christ, he invited Indrid into his _house_. The vampire could have shown up at any time, come to him while he was asleep and helpless. 

Never mind that every night since the ball, he hopes to wake up and see red eyes at the foot of the bed. Or for Indrid’s voice to slip into his ear as he lays there, telling him to be a good human and let the vampire do as he wishes. 

Even as he sits in the secret room behind the dry goods in Tarkesians General Store, Duck flips his options like a coin, never satisfied with the answer that shows it’s face. 

He’s only half-listening to Minerva as she outlines the new plan; if he listens too closely, he might follow-through.

“Aside from Beacon, what other weapons do you need?” Leo doesn’t look up from their notebook when he asks. Duck left out the part of his last mission where he had to fish his sword out of the bushes. 

“Uh, stakes, I guess? Just, uh, what happens if I still can’t find the fella? Does it switch over to one of you?”

“Excellent question” Minerva slaps the table, “it’s my opinion that-”

“Shhhhh” Sarah holds up her hand, “someone just came in the store.”

“That shouldn't be possible, seein as I locked the door.” Leo joins her, listening, then pulls her backwards, “it’s the police. We gotta go, c’mon everyone out through the tunnel.”

Minerva already has the trap door up when the howl bursts through the air. 

“Fuck, if they brought werewolves with ‘em there’s no way we can outrun them at this point.”

Duck barely hesitates, stepping in front of the door and putting his weight against it, “Not unless someone buys y’all time.”

“Duck, are you sure-”

“Minerva, you oughta know by now I’m stubborn, and y’all need to get gone. I’ll keep ‘em stalled as long as I can.”

His fellow hunters disappear into the floor the instant the door behind him shudders. There’s a snarl, followed by two more bone-rattling thumps. He holds fast, strength working in his favor. 

“Fuck, if we lose them Woodbridge will have our hides.”

“And our necks.”

He withstands another jolt, wonders how long it’ll be until one of them-

_ Crack _

-figures out that smashing through will work better. 

Duck shifts left to void being smacked with a paw. The ledger with their most recent plan is still on the table, left behind in the scramble to escape. All his stalling will be for nothing if anyone gets their hands on it. 

He chucks an oil lantern, flames spilling and engulfing the book. Doing so takes a fraction of his weight form the door, but that’s all the help the werewolf on the other side needs. 

Duck skids cross the floorboards, slamming into the far wall as someone calls for the book to be put out. It snuffs out instantly, because of course they sent a fucking spellcaster along with the rest. 

One werewolf is nosing too close to the trap door, so he swings his foot out, catching it in the snout. It lunges at him and he rolls forward, sending it it over his back and into a shelf. He bowls over the spellcaster with his shoulder, figuring if he can get out of the store and into the forest he’ll lose them. 

The other werewolf swings a fist and he dodges, catching his opponent in the gut with his elbow. As he spins out of it’s grasp, he sees a dozen more men coming down the hall. If his luck holds, he can just charge and part them like the red sea. 

A paw catches the back of his head, shoving him into the wall.

“Rule one of hunting in a pack; always have one of you stay unshifted. It gives the element of surprise.” Growls the third werewolf. 

He tries leveraging his weight to push back and fight, only for the other two werewolves to cluster up on him, one cuffing his hands and the other throwing a cloth sack over his head. 

As he’s dragged from the room, still fighting as best he can, a muffled voice reaches through the fabric.

“Have to hand it to seer Cold. He might be a class-A freak, but he’s right on the money. Have a look at this ledger…”

\----------------------------------------------

The ledger turns out to be the only part of the escape he didn’t fuck up. By the time the police got to it, all but one scrap of paper was burnt beyond recognition. 

Trouble is, it's a scrap of paper with his name and assignment on it. 

He’s been in jail two days. Juno arrived the morning after his arrest, trying to post his bail only for it to be double her yearly pay. At sunrise today, Mama arrived with the stated amount, only for it to double yet again. 

In the hours between his friends attempts to free him, Duck accumulates bruises. Some are from the fight, others from his captors desire for information. In between blows, Duck allows himself a moment of pride; for a man who can’t lie, he’s given away nothing, kept the identities of the other hunters safe, refused to say a word about their plans. 

Were those the only instances of violence, his chosen durability would keep him free of marks. But much of the police force takes this opportunity to take their displeasure with the state of things out on him. The supernatural members hate hunters, assuming they’re all undiscerning murderers. Humans hate them because they make the vampires in particular angry; the thinking goes that if only the hunters would stop, no rogue vampire would ever make a meal of a human again.

He’s laying on the cot, making constellations of the mold spots, when the outer door swings open and a familiar figure steps to the bars. 

“Hey, Lady Flame.” Duck eases his feet onto the floor, crossing to her. 

“Hey. I can’t stay long, and they wouldn't even let me bring Dr. Harris Bonkers in to say hi, but Dani wanted me to give you this. I can’t, like, leave it here with you because it’s technically contraband, so you’ll wanna use it fast.” She hands him a jar of extra-strength Arnica balm. As he rubs it on his arms and neck, Aubrey adds, “I wish you’d told us sooner what was going on. I mean, I know, like  _ really _ know, everyone has secrets and stuff but....but maybe we could have helped you not end up in this mess.”

“It was my choice, Aubrey. I couldn’t let them get everyone else. Woulda done the same thing if it’d been you and Dani and all them.”

“Really?” The subdued look on her face has him reaching through the bars to squeeze her hand.

“Really. Y’all are my friends, I wanna help you out. Just, uh, just seem to have landed in situation where that might not happen for awhile. Trial don’t even start until the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh! About that, the good news is Janelle is taking your case. I talked to her about it and she was all for helping you, but apparently she was going to do that even before I asked. I guess Vincent went to her on your behalf.”

‘Why?”

“Not sure, but at a guess it’s that a lot of people in this town think you’re a good guy and want you to be okay. And if for some reason Janelle can’t get you out of this we’ll, we’ll think of something.”

“Miss Little?” Sheriff Owens appears in the doorway, “I’m afraid that’s all the time we can give you.”

Duck plunks the jar in her hand, “Thanks for comin by. And don't worry. I’ll be, uh, well, maybe not fine, but I’ll hang in there.”

Aubrey gives him one last, worried look, and then he’s alone once more.

\-------------------------------------------

“I have to be honest, Duck, the chances of you getting off entirely are vanishingly small.” Janelle reviews her notes, “and while you’d put yourself in a less dire position by naming your co-conspirators, Aubrey suggested I not bother with that route.”

“Yep.” Duck bounces his knee under the table. At least the meeting room is warmer than his cell. 

“Our next best chance is to play on your honesty; I have both Juno and Barclay willing to vouch for the fact you cannot lie. If we successfully establish that, the jury will at least trust whatever you  _ do _ decide to share. The only other thing we have in our favor is that you’ve never killed anyone, though the prosecution is still insisting that’s a lie. If we can get the charge down from “murder” to “attempted murder” I’ll call that a win.”

“And if we can’t?”

Janelle looks over her glasses at him, “then if you’re found guilty, you’ll be hung.”

“Fuckin  _ what _ ?”

“They’ve every intention of making an example of you, Duck. Woodbridge prides himself on having a city free of hunters and is looking to dissuade anyone from trying to get another guild going. We have a strong chance of keeping you from death, but given your name was the only identifiable one in that ledger, getting a ‘not guilty’ on charges of conspiracy to commit murder and on the charge of hunting itself will be difficult.” She manages a no-nonsense smile, “All the same I promise you I will do my best to get you acquitted.”

To Janelle’s credit, she comes out on the offensive on the first day of the trial, pointing out the lack of evidence that Duck ever harmed anyone, the clear ulterior motives of the prosecution, and the fact that most people in town see him as kind and harmless. Juno and Barclay swear up and down that Duck can’t lie, with Juno adding that she’s positive there’s been some kind of mix-up. This plays well with Janelle’s other strategy of insisting that if Duck were indeed involved in the hunters network, he was mislead into doing so. 

Duck isn’t called until the second day of the trial. Aside from reiterating that he’s never harmed anyone, he keeps quiet. He has all sorts of things to say about the fact he was chosen for this role at eighteen and didn't have any say in it, but Janelle’s instructions on when to stay silent were clear.

Just after dinner, two detectives appear in his cell.

“Saw how much fun the deputies had beatin on me and decided to try it out?” He drawls, more tired than frightened at this point. 

“Not quite.” Is all the vampiric one says before cuffing him. That they end up in the interrogation room is no surprise, nor is the chair he’s cuffed to, his back to the door. 

Woodbridge’s voice, however, is the worst kind of surprise. 

“I don’t care all that much what happens to you, Mr. Newton. But I do care about finding the other wretches in your network and snuffing the whole thing out. Which is why this round of questioning will be little...different. Previous attempts were too scattershot; we need to know which tactics are most likely to lead to your cooperation.”

“You bring in a fuckin psychic or somethin?”

“Someone a touch more accurate.” Woodbridge replies just as new footfall reaches Duck’s ears. One he’s heard time and time again.

The footsteps circle the chair, and then Indrid is in front of him. He’s without his disguise, face placid as a frozen lake. 

After the raid, Duck held out hope that Indrid hadn’t known. That he’d seen a hunter meeting but not Duck, that he’d never meant for Duck to be harmed or captured. 

Now he understands. Indrid was lying when he said Duck could choose his path as he wished; the hunter didn’t choose Indrid, and so Indrid is getting revenge.

Duck growls when Indrid steps closer, bending the metal of his cuffs but unable to break them.

“There is no need for this to happen. You know what to say to make this stop.”

“Yeah, I do. And I got no plans to say it.”

Indrid’s lips twitch, “Are you so loyal to your cause?”

“I’m loyal to my friends. Know that’s a foreign concept to you.”

A frown that fights to stay hidden, “You know less than you think.” Indrid looks over Duck’s head, “I maintain this is a pointless endeavor. The man is a hunter” Indrid’s glasses slip when he tilts his head down to lock eyes with Duck “he can’t feel a thing.”

“I did not ask for your opinion on that. You know what to do.”

Indrid turns to the human detective, “His chest. Scar tissue.”

The blow is hard enough that Duck hunches forward. When two more strikes don’t even earn a whimper, the detectives ask Indrid for guidance.

“Right arm. Old injury.”

Duck snickers; Indrid remembered wrong. He broke his left arm putting a birds nest back in a tree as a kid. The noise gets him a bloody nose, but neither that nor the blackjack to his arm feel like much. Thank fuck for his powers, it’s the least they can do for landing him here in the first place. 

The process repeats with his stomach and his right hand before Indrid says, “There are still no futures where he cooperates, no matter what you try next.”

“Very well. Take him back to his cell. If we cannot make them all stand accountable for their crimes, then we shall be certain to make one take the blame for all.”

As he’s being dragged back out, he spits at Indrid’s feet. The vampire doesn’t even move, but watches him all the way to the cell-block door. 

The instant he’s on his cot, he crumples, gasping in pain. Whatever strength protected him during he interrogation has run out, leaving him aching from head to foot, with his heart hurting worst of all. 

\-----------------------------------------------

In a quiet, snow-dusted clearing of the Monongahela, a mist becomes a man. A man who meant to hold himself together until he reached home.

Indrid curls up on the cold ground, knees to his chest and hands across his mouth to stifle all manner of sounds. 

He hadn’t known. The futures showed the list being written, not the complete page. Showed the building but not the faces of everyone who was in it. He only learned Duck was one of them when it was too late to call off the raid. When the futures showed Duck taking the noble path, Indrid screamed into his palms in frustration.

Their names on that slip paper had been as good as a stake to his heart. All his hopes burnt up in an instant; not only had Duck not left the other hunters, he was still willing to make Indrid his first victim. 

He hadn’t known, and now there was no way to unknow. He ought to leave Duck to his fate. Ought to have actually helped the interrogation rather than hinder it as he did. 

He can’t. The foolish affection in his chest won’t die, won’t let him imagine a world without Duck. 

Duck, who hates him. Who has every right to after tonight. There are still futures where this is the last time Indrid sees him. Where the final memory of his face is furious and bloodied.

Indrid presses his face to his knees and weeps beneath the snowy sky.

\------------------------------------------

“How long does it usually take?” Duck tries not to look at the door the jury left through. 

“On cases like this it’s either very short or very long. Given they’ve been in there for four hours, I suspect it may take at least another day for them to reach a verdict.”

Duck does his best to distract himself, but his mind is skittish and his appetite is gone.

At ten minutes until five, the jury returns and the foreperson confirms they’ve made their decision. 

“On the charges of conspiracy to commit murder and vampire hunting, we find the defendant: guilty.”

Cries of protest come from the spot behind him where he knows his friends sit. 

“Damn it all.” Janelle hisses, “that’s an outcome where the presiding justice has a say in your sentence.”

“Ain't he one Woodbridge likes?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.”

“In that case.” The judge picks up his gavel, “the accused is sentenced to blood servitude” he smirks at Duck, “for the rest of his life.”


	6. At Your Service

“We have to do  _ something _ .” Indrid thwacks his hands onto his sketchbook. 

“I agree. Trouble is, whenever one of us suggests a plan, you’re the one tellin us that there’s no future where we spring Duck without some or all of us gettin caught. We ain’t hunters, but the Pine Guard ain’t exactly legal.”

“Plus, freeing a convicted criminal is itself cause for incarceration.” Ned sips his tea. 

“Hate to say it, but Ned’s right. And if we all end up in jail, our mission is as good as failed and the whole town is fucked. Whole state too, if things go real bad.”

“We cannot just leave him to his fate. We can’t, there must be something, some future I’m missing.”

“Indrid” Barclay sets a hand on his shoulder, “exhausting yourself isn’t gonna help.”

“There has to be a way” he scrubs his face with his hands, pushing his glasses up, “I’ll find it, if I look long enough, hard enough…”

As he’s muttering and drawing, he’s dimly aware of Mama talking to Barclay.

“Best to leave it, big fella. If he wants to bang his head into a wall tryin to save Duck, not sure there’s a way to stop him.”

“Mama, they’re assigning Duck to a vampire _tomorrow_ , I’m not sure anything will change between now and then.”

“I ain’t either. Think we’re at the point where there ain’t nothin to do but pray.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Duck prays, not for salvation or mercy, but for this to go quick. It’s bad enough that this happens in public, that the vampires get to look him over like livestock. If it takes all night, he’ll be nothing but a scared dog with it’s back to the wall, snapping at anyone who looks at him by the end of it.

They’ve let him change into clean clothes, but not bathe, so the skin under the white shirt is grimy and the jeans hide dried blood on his legs. He’s standing at the front and center of the room, heavily guarded with reinforced chains on his wrists and ankles. 

The judge who sentenced him is overseeing the event, and as he feared any vampire with a smidgen of status or power is here to make a case for why they should get him. Some humans and werewolves turn up as well to gawk at the proceedings. Clustered in the back of the room are Aubrey, Ned, and Dani (Mama and Barclay have to work); Ned promised they’d stay the whole night and into the next day if they had to so he wouldn't be alone  


A rap of the gavel brings the room to attention. Woodbridge sits near the front with a pleased posture, and the vampire to his right eyes Duck approvingly as the mayor whispers in his ear.

The judge clears his throat, “Welcome, esteemed guests. The order of the day is as follows: those who are interested may examine the condemned to see if he fits their needs. Once that is done, any who wish to claim him as a blood servant must make their case to me. At this time, I invite any vampires present to come and study the condemned.”

“That will not be necessary.”

Every head whips towards the back of the room. Indrid, disguised, stands before the double doors, arms folded behind him and smile growing. 

“Seer Cold, I do not follow.” It’s the first time the judge sounds deferential. 

“Allow me to explain.” Indrid walks forward with casual confidence, “I am a valuable asset to the wellbeing of Kepler. So valuable that I was the first target in the hunters plot. It is imperative that I be at my full capacity for the foreseeable future. I need the freshest possible blood to do so, and I do not have anyone to provide it. Ergo” he points at Duck, grinning, “I have the greatest claim to Duck Newton.”

“You son of a-” Duck’s yanked back by a guard. He growls at the man restraining him. Indrid simply waits for Duck to look at him once more.

“Seer Cold, are you forgetting he is a hunter whose target was you?” Woodbridge’s eyes turn suspicious. 

“Believe me, I could not forget such a thing. Even if I wanted to. But what you say only strengthens my case; who better to have an unpredictable hunter than someone who excels at predictions? And what better humiliation for him than feeding the very vampire he sought to kill?”

Murmurs of agreement from the crowd, but Woodbridge and the judge trade unsure glances.

“I will have precautions in place, of course. If you wish to take your chances with an underpowered, unhappy seer, I will not stop you.”

He’s throwing his weight around, just like the last shreds of Duck’s hope said he would. Except instead of swooping in to save him, he’s using it to get Duck all to himself.

“Goddamn him to hell.” Duck whispers, unbothered by the glare from the guard. 

“Does anyone wish to challenge Baron Cold?”

No one moves or speaks.

Woodbridge nods at the judge while the vampire beside him scowls. 

“Very well. Duck Newton is hereby legally the blood servant of Indrid Cold, until the end of the formers wretched little life.”

“Hey!”

“This meeting is dismissed.” A wave of the judge’s hand and Duck is escorted out of the room, Indrids triumphant smile burning against his back.

In a matter of hours he’s blindfolded in a cab, jostling it’s way uphill.

“Y’all know I know where his house is, right?”

The blindfold tightens and he gives up, slumping in on himself until they arrive. He remains vision-less as he’s pulled from the cab and guided roughly up some stairs and down a hall. The footsteps change from muffled to loud, and the room he’s in echos with them.  


When water starts running, he’s relieved he’ll finally get a bath. Or he is, until someone starts trying to remove his shirt.

“What the fuck man? Just fuckin undo the cuffs and I can do it my own damn self.”

“Shut up. The Baron needs clean food and none of us want to risk you getting away on our watch.”

“Jesus christ, I’m not gonna climb out the window with my dick out! Hey, watch your fuckin hands or I fucking swear to god-”

“Oh for goodness sake.” Indrids’ voice cuts through the air, “let the man undress and bathe in peace.”

“But Baron, we-”

“That was an order.”

The hands grabbing him disappear, as do the remaining cuffs. By the time he has the blindfold off, the room is empty and the bath is close to overflowing. 

He never thought he’d be close to tears when feeling warm water and soap, but here he is. There’s now a bracelet on his wrist, enchanted so he can’t break it and inscribed “Indrid Cold.” A way for everyone to know his station. As he’s scrubbing his chest, the guards words bubble up in his mind. 

_ “The Baron needs clean food” _

In the man’s voice, the phrase makes Duck ill. Yet his mind plays a trick, switches the sneering tone for Indrid’s gentle, unyielding one, the one he used the night of the ball. For a few minutes he loses himself in the fantasy of scrubbing clean from a hard day at work, then stepping into Indrid’s room, showing off the freshly washed throat above the neck of his robe. Of Indrid smiling as he tells Duck he’s being such a well-behaved treat.

When no one bangs on the door demanding he hurry, he adds more hot water in hopes if he soaks long enough the whole situation will dissolve with the dirt. After that fails to occur, he looks for a towel. Finds one within arms reach. Beneath it are a pair of pants, undershirt, and thick flannel button-down. His favorite one, in fact. 

Right, Indrid can get into his house.

The bathroom door is unlocked, and no one waits for him in the next room.It’s the same dark wood paneling and wide windows as Indrid’s study. The windows are enchanted shut when he tries them, the nob of the main door lightly shocking when he attempts turning it.   


He takes stock of the rest of the space. There’s a fireplace, but no wood or tools. The bed is a modest size, blankets piled at the foot, and with the exception of a writing desk, a wardrobe, two arm chairs by the fire, and a bookcase on the wall by his bed, there are no other furnishings. Sensible, given they want to limit his chances of a make-shift weapon or escape. A drawing hands on either side of the bed, and another sits proudly above the fireplace. They’re all by Indrid.

Pain of too many kinds to name splits his chest when he sees the one nearest the bookcase is of one of their favorite spots in the Monongahela. Duck often takes (no,  _ took _ ) his lunch there so he can watch the patch of woods where multiple animal trails connect. Where the first springs bulbs always bloom. The picture is drawn from the same perspective. More accurately, it’s drawn from the perspective of someone sitting beside him.

Maybe if he plays along just right, Indrid will let him go there again.

The frame is crooked, so he adjusts it, the wire catching and tugging the hook as he does. A soft  _ thunk _ grabs his attention. He pulls down on the hook, far sturdier than it looks, and the bookcase swings forward.

Through the gap, he spies the next room over, fire crackling and sending warm air rushing in. He takes the short trip through the passage, pulls a matching hook on the other end to shut the bookcase behind him. Judging by the paper littering the floor and the mounds of blankets on the bed, there’s only one person this room belongs to. 

Indrid’s voice comes through the outer door, agitated, and Duck’s stepping back towards the passageway as the vampire enters the room and calls an exhausted “good day” to someone in the hall. 

Two locks click shut and then, without turning, he murmurs, “I presume you have questions.”

“Damn right I do. And you got five fuckin seconds to answer ‘em.”

“It might take longer than that to tell you everything.”

“Fine” Duck stalks slowly towards him. The vampire still won’t meet his eyes, “tell me what the fuck happened to thinkin this whole practice was ‘abhorrent? Did it suddenly start looking appealin when you realized I had a mind of my own?”

“No” Indrid’s voice is firm, and when he finally turns he sags against the door, “I spent every waking moment between your sentence and this evening searching for the path of choices that would save you. This one was so repulsive to me it didn’t even enter my mind until the hour before the meeting. So yes, it is abhorrent to me, but far less so than the thought of leaving you to suffer.”

“How fuckin noble, ‘savin’ me in a way that means you keep me cooped up in your fuckin bedroom.”

“Would you have preferred the future where you end up chained in a cellar? Or the one where your master is so greedy he takes too much a week from now and you die, perhaps?” Indrid pushes off the door, hands cutting sharp shapes in the air. 

“You want me to fuckin congratulate you havin the bare minmum of decency? No fuckin chance.” They’re toe to toe now, Duck glaring up at him, “you sold me out, after you promised not to!”

“I did no such thing” Indrid hisses, anger in every line of his face, “I did not know you would be there, not until it was too late. And since we are talking betrayals, do you have any idea what it felt like to see you agreed to kill me yet again?”

“Can’t feel any worse than bein tortured. Y’know, while the fella you thought cared about tells them how to do it.”

Indrid’s lip twitches up and Duck wants to slap it back down.

“Did you feel any pain while I was there?”

The human begins nodding, then stops, his anger redirecting to confusion.

“No. It hurt like hell afterwards, but durin I didn’t feel much. Just assumed it was my powers.”

“Not that time. It was my thrall. An order to your body disguised as an insult. My thrall can’t hold once I’m away from the person under it, but if it could I would have made it do so. I couldn’t get out of the interrogation without Woodbridge becoming suspicious or bringing in someone crueler.”

“Why help me like that?” 

Indrid removes his glasses, dragging his hand down his face, “Because I care about you Duck. Everything I’ve done in the last week has been with the aim of helping you escape a horrible fate. Please” he looks at him with uncovered eyes, red as fresh blood, “tell me what I can do to prove I have no intention of harming you.”

“Let me go. Help me get the fuck outta here.”

“I can’t. And before you begin arguing with me, yes, I know that makes me look guilty of only doing this to keep you here with me. But Woodbridge and a few others are staying here for a week. In part, they wish for me to have added protection in the event you try harming me. But I am certain Woodbridge and at least two others are suspicious of my motives. I am not surprised. What would you think if a vampire who hates the practice suddenly wanted to be first in line for a blood servant.”

“That he found a human he liked the thought of controlin’.” Duck crosses his arms

“For the last time, that is not why I did this. The only time I wish to control you is--nevermind, it doesn’t matter. There is more to the plan, but I dare not say it for fear they’ll use you inability to lie to get it from you, which puts us and many others in danger. And no, since you are about to ask, I have no intention of feeding from you.”

Duck lets his skepticism show on his face. 

Indrid reaches for him, only for him to bat his hand away, “Please,  _ please  _ understand that I will do everything in my power to make the time while we must keep up this ruse pleasant for you. I’m trying to protect you, and in order for that to happen we have to convince Woodbridge and the others that you are my blood servant and nothing more.”

“Why?”

“Because I cannot bear the thought of you being taken from me!”

The regret on Indrid’s face is instantaneous.

“That, that was a poor choice of words, I did not mean for it to sound like that.”

“Sounded like you were finally telling the truth.”

“Duck, no, please I-”

“Don’t take another fuckin step, and don’t even think of followin me. You want me to play the fuckin servant, fine. Servants don’t socialize with masters, so I’m out.” 

Without turning his back, he steps through the passageway, shutting it on the other side and getting one final glimpse of Indrid’s stunned expression. 

He lays on the bed, watching the sun travel through the sky. For his plan to work, he needs it to be at the highest possible point. As he waits, he mulls over their argument. He wants to believe Indrid, wants it the way a drowning man wants for air. But even if Indrid did help him, and is trying to keep him from a worse fate than this, the fact he conveniently can’t reveal the rest of his plan makes the suspicions in Duck’s mind calcify into something he can’t get past. 

It’s close to one in the afternoon when he finally rises and pulls on the boots waiting for him by the bed. Most of the vampires should be asleep by now, and even if Indrid was out and about in the daytime when he and Duck first met, he has to rest some time. As quietly as he can he activates the secret door and slips through. Indrid is nowhere to be found. 

Duck heads straight to the windows, opening one and eyeing the jump down. It’s three stories. He once fell the equivalent of four while checking on a pine tree and got up without a scratch. 

When he lands on the ground he waits, to dive for cover at the first sound of footsteps. None come, and so he takes off as fast as he can towards the woods. There’s not a soul in sight, and soon even the house disappears behind a rise. He reaches a stand of Yew trees in a crumbling statue garden at the edge of the property and stops to catch his breath. 

That’s odd, it’s the middle of the day and the sky is clear. Where is that mist coming from?

“Fuck.” He mutters as Indrid appears on the path ahead of him. 

“Foresight.” Indrid taps his head. There are dark circles visible under his glasses. 

“Those powers happen to tell you if you’ll get the hell outta my way?”

“I would in an instant, had you not tripped an alarm as soon as you passed the first Yew. The first thing any sensible blood servant tries is to runaway; they set up an enchanted perimeter in case you did just that.”

Voices come from behind him, and when he peers back he sees two humans and a transformed werewolf in the trees. 

Indrid’s arm links through his own. 

“It’s alright gentlemen, he is here with me.”

“Seer Cold?” The werewolf cocks his head, “but the alarm went off.”

“That was my error. I was taking him on a tour of the grounds and forgot it was there. It has, after all, been up a grand total of eight hours.”

The taller of the humans, who Duck recognizes as one of his most frequent interrogators, narrows his eyes. 

“In that case, allow us to escort you back to the estate.”

“Very well. Come along, pet.” He pats Duck’s hand. Duck makes a rude gesture with the other one. Instead of glaring at him, Indrid stifles a smirk. 

They stay arm in arm all the way upstairs, since Woodbridge peers from his assigned guest room as they walk by. Duck makes the same gesture, stealthily, and Indrid snorts. 

“Will you be needing anything else, Baron?” 

“No. I intend to retire for the day.”

“And as for your pet?” The human sneers.

“Only I may call him that. The rest of you are to call him Duck.” Indrid opens the door with an imperious flourish, “good day.”

“Meddlesome.” He hisses once they’re safely inside, “and I apologize for the name choice, I panicked a moment and couldn’t come up with anything else.”

Duck wants to say he doesn’t mind; he likes when Indrid calls him that, and even if he didn’t he understands making poor choices under pressure. 

Then his brain points out there is nothing about this situation he should enjoy, and so he says, “don’t get too used to callin me that. Soon as the rest of them are out of here, you can find someone else to be your fuckin pet.”

Indrid doesn’t protest, shrugs and says softly, “Understood. Please try to get some sleep at some point today rather than attempting another escape that will end the exact same way.”

“Fine.” He promises, with every intention of breaking it.

Then he collapses into bed and surrenders to dreams of Indrid nestled beside him on a bench, in happier times. 

\------------------------------------------------

That night, on the road between Kepler and anchorage, a cab sits at the center of the dirt track, never to move again. It’s driver slumps, dead, in his seat, while the lone passenger lays on the ground, face and neck in shreds. 

Three figures stand around the grisly scene.

“Do we leave him here to be found?”

“No, we must make it as suspicious seeming as we can. Everyone must believe this was politically motivated. Help me drag him into those bushes.”

“Who was he anyway?” The third wipes blood from his paws.

“Some werewolf lawyer from the coast. Now all the packs in the county will think the vampires are out to quash them even more. Just as we planned.”


	7. My Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duck has a panic attack in the first part of this chapter, but doesn't realize that's what's happening

There’s a weight on his chest, two points of it creeping towards his neck. So this is how it happens. Indrid finally gave up the pretense of protecting him. 

“Mraaaaow”

He’d know that scratchy sound anywhere.

“Winnie? Hey scruffball, how’d you get here?” Duck sits up, scooping her into his arms and burying his face in her fluff. 

A thunk draws his attention to the door, where Barclay is setting the last of three boxes atop a cedar chest. 

“Indrid asked me to bring her over along with as much of your stuff as I could.”

Duck pushes the covers aside, Winnie wiggling free to investigate her new home, “Great, then you can help me get the fuck out of here.”

The cook holds finger to his lips, looks behind himself and then shuts the door, “I thought Indrid told you why that was a bad idea.”

“Said he couldn’t help me get free, not that someone else couldn’t help me mysteriously escape.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t do that. There’s, uh, other reasons than the one Indrid gave you. Trust me, this’ll all make sense soon. Sorry that’s, that’s all I got. Oh, uh, any meal requests?”

“You gonna bring me stuff from the lodge?”

“No. I’m Indrid’s cook. Part time for, uh, obvious reasons.”

“Surprised he’s keepin you on after gettin me.” Duck sinks back down onto the bed.

Barclay raises an eyebrow, “If anything, he’ll need me more because you live here. As for the thing you’re implying, pretty sure the last time he took blood from a living body was over a decade ago. He told me about it, said he got badly hurt and a werewolf friend helped him out. Apparently he was delirious and kept saying he apologized if the feeding led to a werewolf-vampire hybrid. Point is, he’s not gonna bite you unless you offer first.”

He remembers fangs in his neck, the world melting into nothing more than an endless pool of pleasure. 

Duck groans, flops backwards to glare at the ceiling. God help him if he loses the battle with temptation; he’ll move from being a blood servant to something more akin to a blood slut. Even the thought of it makes him shiver with interest, then pound himself on the head with shame. 

“You really won’t help me out?”

“I can't. None of us can until the coast is clear. And, uh, I gotta be honest, I’m still feelin kinda weird about you bein a hunter.” Barclay has the top box open, is pulling hangers from the wardrobe and putting clothing on them. 

Duck bolts upright “It ain’t about mindless killin, Barclay, it’s about protectin Kepler.” 

“If it’d been my name on that list, or Dani’s, would you have tried to stop them anymore than you tried to stop them going after Indrid?’

“Why would-”

“I’m a werewolf, Duck. Dani’s a vampire. Hell, most of the people who live at the lodge are one or the other. Indrid said he wanted to leave it to us to tell you. He didn’t feel like it was his place to reveal what we are. And look, I get it, the way Woodbridge and his cronies run this town can make a guy hate any vampire he runs across. But I lost family, people who did nothing wrong, to hunters when I was younger. Dani nearly lost her folks in a mob attack. It fucking sucked to learn you were in with people like that.”

“But they ain’t! They’re my friends, same as you.”

Barclay sighs, shutting the wardrobe, “I’m sure they are. Look, Duck, just give Indrid a chance. He’s still the same guy you fell for.”

Duck tenses, “who said anythin about me fallin for him?”

A chuckle, “I’m not blind, pal. Lemme know if you think of any meal requests.” 

“You sure you can’t just spring me out the back door?” It’s only half a joke. 

“Yep, I’m sure.” He gives a short wave and leaves the room. Duck checks the door a few seconds later, deflating when he finds Barclay locked it.

For a time unpacking soothes him with the familiar weight of his books as he shelves them or the texture of his clothes as he folds and stores them. Winnie chases a stuffed mouse, then curls up on the windowsill to sleep in the sun. It’s downright homey. 

Except he could  _ leave _ his home. He could unlock the doors, come and go whenever he wanted to, keep out whoever he saw fit. Now he’s trapped, surrounded by people who have, can, and want to hurt him. And the one person who swears he won’t harm him has carte blanche to suck every last drop of blood from his body.

No one will tell him the truth. No one will let him escape. He is going to live out the rest of his goddamn life in these two rooms, all because of a fucking useless destiny he never asked for, all because Indrid wants Duck to himself more than he wants Duck to be a free man. He’s going to live out his days without any of the things he loves, he’s going to die in the fucking bedroom, and he’s powerless to stop it. 

His chest is a fucking vise, his mind is pulling away from his body and Rational Duck, worn through by a solid week of holding his scared, heartbroken, terrifyingly mortal being, rips in two. 

He can’t stay here. He has to get out, no matter what.

\-----------------------------------------------

Indrid registers warmth first, weight second. The presence of that alone on his chest is not alarming. The sharp edge against his neck is another matter. 

Without opening his eyes and as calmly as he can manage, he says, “Duck, that is not a good idea.”

“Given where your ideas keep landin me, I don’t give a shit.” The human’s voice is low and rough. Indrid wants it to wash over him, compel him for a few moments. But the circumstances are not ideal.

“Very well. What do you want?” Opening his eyes brings the ranger into focus, face determined save for his eyes, where something wild and skittish prowls. 

“I want. Out.” Duck growls, the noise as pleasing as the first time he heard it, “And you’re gonna fuckin help me because it’s your fuckin house and you got everyone convinced my bein here is the right thing, and the instant I let my fuckin guard down you’re gonna turn me into dinner.”

Indrid winces at the certainty in his voice. Has he failed so utterly to show Duck he’d never take from him without permission?

“So I’m gonna get gone, and you’re gonna help me, or I’ll, I’ll-”

Instead of pressing closer the weapon falls back an inch, allowing Indrid to see it’s a mirror shard, smaller fragments still stuck in Duck’s hand. 

He grips the improvised weapon tighter, “Indrid, for fucks sake, just help me.”

The tremor starts in his fingers, blood seeping between them and down a trembling rm until his whole body starts shuddering. Never taking his eyes off him, Indrid scoots up the headboard until he’s upright, the human doing nothing to stop him. 

He’s never seen this before, not even in the futures he watches so closely while Duck was imprisoned, nor since he’s been here. 

He’s never seen fear on his face, not even when he was interrogated, sentenced, or when Indrid claimed him. It’s only ever been the same steady resolve, the odd flash of anger. But that doesn’t mean the fear was absent. Now it is making itself known. 

Gently, he slides the glass from Duck’s hand. He’s loathe to leave the human alone for even a moment to fetch bandages, and so he tears a strip of sheet away. Duck’s fingers open like petals, red blooming at the center of his palm. Indrid presses the fabric there to staunch the blood as he picks the smaller shards free and sets them on the side table. Were fate kinder, they’d be in a timeline where he could kiss the pinpricks of blood away, an appetizer to hold him over until Duck begged for more. Now he just dabs them clean, wraps the fabric around and knots it at Duck’s wrist. And all the while the human shakes, breathing like a rabbit he once glimpsed for an instant before a fox was upon it. 

Holding him only helps in ten percent of the futures, and so Indrid gathers a nearby blanket and drapes it over his shoulder where he longs to put his arms. 

“It’s, it’s alright, Duck, it’ll be alright, please, don’t be upset, everything will work out-”

“Would you stop fuckin sayin that?” There’s no bite in the words, though Duck manages to glare at him, “y’all keep tellin me that things will be fine, that you got a plan, that it’ll all be hunky-dory soon and I won’t have anythin to be scared of. But that don’t fuckin help me now, when I’m locked up and everyone is actin like I’m gettin what I deserve. It’s like tellin a kid there’s no monster under the bed when you ain’t the one layin there in the dark hearin weird noises.”

Uncomfortable clarity strikes him.

“Duck I, I am so sorry. I treated your fear as if it did not matter because I could see the futures where it was gone. I thought you could take comfort in something you could not see and had only my word for. That was foolish of me.”

Relief flickers under the fear, “That’s the first time in days anyone’s actually listened to what I was tryin to tell ‘em.” He’s shaking far less, looks at his bandaged hand, “guess I earned myself seven years of bad luck.”

“I take it that was the bathroom mirror?”

“Yep.Didn’t hurt, but it made an awful mess.”

“There’s a broom in the hall cupboard between here and my study if you wish to avoid stepping on broken glass.”

“Thanks.”

Duck’s composure is mothwing-thin, and not knowing how to proceed Indrid defaults to the grand vampiric tradition of manners. 

“Is there anything else I can offer you?”

“Space. Indrid, I’m startin to believe you when you say why you brought me here. But I’d feel a whole lot better if we kept me havin to play your servant to a minimum.”

There’s a future where Duck blushes, tries to elaborate, and stammers something Indrid can’t discern, but that is not the timeline they’re in. 

“Very well. Unless it is a matter of life or death, I will not seek you out until you give me permission.”

“Thanks, ‘Drid.” Duck sighs as he slips from the bed, blanket still around his shoulders. Indrid doesn’t realize until later that it was his favorite, black embroidered with red trees. Ah well, Duck needs it more than he does. And whatever Duck needs right now, Indrid will give. 

He just wishes what he needed was him.

\--------------------------------------------

The past few days have been more bearable. The door to his room is no longer locked from the outside, and he finds convenient notes on his floor alerting him to where and when Woodbridge and the others will be out and about. The doors outside are all still enchanted to shock him if he tries opening them, but at least now he can stretch his legs. 

As promised, Indrid stays away from him. More than once Duck enters a room in time to see a mist slipping away into the next. 

There’s even a day when, as he’s reading in the study, Indrid walks in drawing and thus doesn’t see Duck until he almost sits on him. Before he can disappear, Duck reassures him that it’s fine if he stays. He pretends not to notice the smile that breaks like the dawn across Indrid’s face when he does. 

It’s the early evening when, as he’s passing a sitting room, Indrids laughter flutters through the air. 

“My, my, little princess, you startled me.”

“Mrawwwoo.”

Winnie, unhampered by fear, has claimed the entire estate as her own and, in that uniquely feline way, roamed it seemingly unimpeded by locked doors. 

“I see you have something for me. Ah, a mouse head. You are too kind.”

A soft crinkle of something hitting the wastebin.

“Mrrawwo.”

“I thought you might say that. Here we are.”

There’s a swish, and Duck peers around the corner to see his cat leaping and batting at a feather on a string. He watches them for a few minutes, vaguely aware that this could seem creepy. But all he can think of is the night a few weeks ago when Indrid did this exact thing on the floor of Duck’s house, cackling each time Winnie did something acrobatic. The way he stole playful glances with Duck, and how Duck spent the last hour of the evening concocting reasons why Indrid should never leave. 

Indrid relinquishes the toy, “That’s all for today.”

“Mroaw?”

“You should run along and find Duck.”

“Mraow.” Winnie blinks her huge eyes as Indrid picks her up.

“Because he needs a comforting presence and as much as I wish it could be me, I am not that right now. You must comfort him for the both of us.”

“Mraow.” 

“Of course I miss him. But that isn’t what matters right now. What Duck needs must come first.”

“And what if what he needs is some company?”

“GAHoh, oh gracious, hello Duck.” Indrid cradles the cat as Duck walks into the room. 

“Didn’t see me comin?”

“Her majesty is very distracting.” He hands Winnie over, and she purrs in Ducks arms. 

“Then howsabout we leave her curled up somewhere warm and, uh, go for a walk? If, uh, if you want to.”

“I do. It’s been far too long since I heard a digression about trees from you. But ah, that is, do you really want to go together? You are not saying it to appease me or something?”

“I can’t lie, remember?” Duck sets Winnie on a pillow near the fire, “besides, if I got my mental map right, there’s a fox den near this edge of the forest. Might see one in it’s winter best.”

A half hour later, they step into the woods under a moonlit sky. Indrid asks questions and Duck answers them, or points out things that make the vampire flap his hands with glee. 

As they watch a nighthawk fly up into the stars, Duck murmurs, “I missed this. Missed you.”

Indrid hums, picks up a sprig of pine and counts the needles.

“I, uh, I still ain’t sure how I feel about certain things. And I still feel more exposed and powerless than I’d like. But, uh, I, I want to get things back to how they were. Between us. Just might take awhile, if you can be-”

“-Paitientohdear, apologies.” Indrid grins, sheepish, “after all these years I still get a bit ahead of things.”

Duck chuckles, “Getting ahead of me like that don’t bother me, as long as you don’t charge ahead on plans without makin sure I’m caught up.”

“I can do that.” Indrid nods.

Duck offers his arm and Indrid takes it. After everything the last weeks threw at him, Duck still feels a sense of calm and safety with Indrid beside him. Maybe that’s his heart talking, but free of the panic of prior days his mind agrees. Even if Indrid Cold is dangerous, he’s never set out to hurt Duck.

Their wandering brings them to one of the old logging roads, still used by travelers looking for a route that doesn’t force them all the way around the woods. Up ahead is a coach with four figures standing near it. One of the wheels is several yards behind the rest of the vehicle. 

“Mind if we check on ‘em?”

“You stole the words from my mouth.” 

Duck waves as they get close, “Y’all lose a wheel?”

“Yes” One of the men shakes his head, “at the worst time of day to do so.”

“Lemme see what I can do.” 

He rolls the wheel back, studies where it came off. Indrid leans down, whispers, “if you can get it on, I can enchant it to hold.”

“Works for me. Hold this.” He passes Indrid the wheel, asks the driver to unhitch the coach so he can lift it without the horses bolting and then holds it steady as Indrid slots the wheel into place. 

In the middle of profuse thanks from the travelers, a horrible, screeching growl thunders through the trees. 

“What in the hell?”

“Oh no” Indrid throws open the door, “quickly, get in and get going, we are running out of--oh damn it.” 

A hukling, brown figure barrels onto the road ahead of them. Somewhere beneath the oozing darkness is the rough shape of a bear, the way a nightmare takes over the shape of a dream.

“Stay by the coach, if it gets past me you may be able to block it.”

Duck doesn’t get to ask what he means because Indrid is running forward, leaping into the air and landing on the monsters back. He hisses, slashing at it’s neck with something Duck can’t make out, only for the creature to make a sharp half-turn and throw him sideways into a tree.

Screams come from the carriage and he steps forward, bracing himself as the bear charges. Digs his heels in with a yelp when they connect, grappling to keep it moving forward.

When a new arm emerges from the muck, he doesn’t see it until it’s swinging towards him. 

There’s a sickening squelch as Indrid materializes between him and the bear, five claws sunk deep in the vampires chest. When Indrid doesn’t give, the creature hits him again. He cries out, pained, managing to shove his hand forward and jab a black handled knife into it’s chest. 

“Wh-when it falls, you can snap it’s neck.” Are the last words he says before collapsing onto the ground. 

The bear pitches forward, scrabbling at the blade in it’s belly, and Duck sidesteps it to catch it’s head in his hands as it falls. The crack of a spine reverberates off the trees. 

“Is it dead?” One of the woman pokes her head from the carriage, clutching a small pistol. 

“Yep.”

“Is he.”

Reality yanks him to the dirt as he falls to Indrid’s side. If he were dead he’d turn to ash, right? That’s what Duck’s always heard. When he turns Indrid’s head towards him, the vampire groans in pain. 

An idea creeps from the darkness. He could leave Indrid here. The coach is heading towards the coast, he could hitch a ride and be gone into a new life before anyone knew what happened. 

“Can’t believe he did that for us. Would have run in his shoes.” One of the men is standing over Duck, hat off. 

“That’s, uh, that’s just the kind of fella ‘Drid is.” Duck carefully takes the red glasses, folding them so they won’t get damaged, “half the reason I like him as much as I do.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

Duck hooks one arm under Indrid’s knees, the other beneath his shoulders, “Can y’all give us a ride?”

\----------------------------------------------

His chest stings like a nest of hornets, and when he moans in protest it’s Duck who answers him. 

“This is what I learned to use on humans, so if it’s somehow bad for you please tell me now.”

“No” his voice is weak, “it will stop the bleeding but that, that won’t be enough. I lost a great deal of blood.”

“I know. Soaked through the scarf one of the folks you saved lent me and my shirt outershirt too, it just wouldn’t stop, how, how do I-”

“Kitchen. Blood is in the icebox.”

“Right.” Hurried footsteps fading down a hall. He’s in his room, he knows that much, recalls squeaking out the words needed to tell Duck to use the servants entrance to avoid them being seen.

He’s so thirsty.

“‘Drid, uh, there’s, there’s only this left.” A glass bottle enters his vision

Less than half a pint. Not nearly enough. Damn house guests. 

Duck clearly understands the look on Indrid’s face, sets the bottle down, “what now?”

“Woodbrdge can’t know and Barclay is at the Lodge. I, can you go into town for me?”

“Will I get back in time?”

“In...ten percent of the futures, yes.”

“Fuck that.” Duck rolls up his left shirtsleeve, holds his bare wrist out “here, this’ll be much quicker.”

Horrified, he tries to sit up and immediately falls back, “Nono, Duck, I can’t, I swore to you I would not use your blood that way.”

“You said you wouldn’t force me to. I’m offerin’.”

“But under duress!”

“The duress of you dyin, which is I thing I really don’t want to happen!”

“It is my own damn fault, not something you should be forced to open yourself to me for. Ten percent chance of survival is still a chance.”

Duck breathes in deep, closes his eyes, “I want you to do this, ‘Drid. I want you to be okay and I, uh, I, I like it. Remember?”

Fresh blood on his tongue, Duck moaning desperate and wanton when teeth met skin. 

“Yes, I remember” He sits up, licking his lips, then shakes his head, “but what if you’re lying to make me feel better?”

“Can’t.”

“Right. Apologies. Blood loss makes me woozy. Very well, we need to do this properly. In the bathroom is some alcohol rub and a cloth. Bring those and a watch, mine is on the dresser if you need it.”

Duck brings the supplies to the bed, sits down when Indrid points to the mattress.

“Clean your wrist and forearm with that. I would do it for you, but-”

“I got it. There, all done.”

“Good” Indrid purrs, “keep the watch in your other hand. If I’m still feeding at thirty seconds, tell me to stop. If the worst happens I do not listen, throw me off the bed.”

Duck giggles, nervous. 

“I am serious.” He takes Duck’s hand, nuzzles the palm before following the veins down to his arm, “may I?”

“Uhhuh.”

There’s a moment of tension, resistance of skin under his teeth echoing through the rest of the human’s body. Then it gives, Duck gasping, arm relaxing as blood bursts into his mouth. It tastes as good as it did last time, the metal zing of it on his tastebuds chased by the sweetness of knowing it is Duck’s. 

“Oh god, oh fuck.” The human whimpers , head tipping back for breath and skin going blotchy red with arousal. Indrid’s never been turned on by feeding like this in the past, but he’s certain that if his body was not routing all resources to staying alive, he’d be hard and ready to pounce, to stain Ducks mouth red how deep those glimpsed veins of submission run. 

The ranger is turning pale as he chokes out, “thirty.”

Indrid pulls back, licks the two drips away and drags his tongue over the wound, something in his saliva the cue to the punctures to heal and close. 

The damage to his chest is gone, hsi head is clear, and he’s ready to lift a moose over his head with one hand (provided Duck can find him one).

“Whoafuck.” Duck tips sideways and Indrid catches him, turning his face by his chin to check his eyes. A little glassy, but nothing to be concerned by. 

“Did it work?” His speech is slightly slurred, and Indrid knows it’s a combination of blood loss and the chemicals in his spit meant to make a victim pliant.

“Perfectly. You did so wonderful, did exactly as I asked.”

Duck grins, proud. 

“Here, can you get into bed for me? Good boy.” Indrid pulls the blankets up to Duck’s waist, “now, be a sweet little human for me and wait right here.”

He gathers a clean bandage and cloth, holds Duck;s hand tenderly as he cleans his arm once again and covers the bitemarks. 

“Kinda like lookin at ‘em.” Duck mumbles. 

Indrid ignores the heat in his spine as the human gazes at his arm. 

“We need to get some food and water into you. I’m going to go to the kitchen and get you some things.”

He finds a tin of cookies Barclay baked yesterday, a pear and, when no sweet drinks present themselves, dumps sugar into warm water and carries it all upstairs on a tray. As he’s elbowing the door open, he gets a flash of Duck looking frightened on the other side. He’s heard of this happening, of someone becoming anxious and clingy in the aftermath of an intense feeding. Add that in with the fact Duck gets pleasure from such things and well, he needs to get this door open and get back to his human at once.

“There you are darlin, thought you’d up and left.”

“I would do no such thing. Feeding may be your way of looking out for me, but when it is done that is the time for me to look after you.” 

He hands Duck the glass, watches him drink, snort when he understands how Indrid made it, and then drink the rest. Indrid slices the pear as Duck polishes off the cookies, then sits beside him and feeds him the fruit. All the while he tells him how good he was, how sweet, how brave and wonderful, keeps his voice to a whisper lest the universe hear how happy he is and take it away from him. 

“Think I’m gonna sleep. Be like you for once and be out cold all day.”

“I sleep at night just as often as not.”

“Gonna fuck up your sleep cycle that way.”

“I’m pretty sure being a vampire did that for me.” He stands, intending to retire to his room, when he remembers they’re already there. 

He picks up a spare blanket and heads towards the fireplace. 

“Where are you goin’?”

“To sleep. I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself.”

An emphatic shake of the head, “Nope, want you over here. You might be a heat sink, but I don’t wanna be away from you right now.”

“That can be arranged.” 

He changes into his pajamas (silk, lined with fur) and slides under the covers. Duck grabs his hand and tugs so they’re facing each other. Futures rush about his mind, followed by questions over what the bear in the woods truly was and where it came from. 

Then Duck’s face is resting on his chest and a strong arm slips across his waist.

“G’night, ‘Drid.”

The futures can wait. He draws his mind as much into the present as he can, and sets his chin on the top of Duck’s head, feels his heartbeat and the evening of his breath. 

“Goodnight, Duck.”


	8. All I Ask of You

Indrid isn’t joking about his sleep habits; any semblance of a usual sleep schedule went up in smoke when he was turned, and only got looser the older he became and the easier time he had being outside. Stay up for two days solid, sleep through three, it all seemed less urgent than the visions in his mind and his duties as seer. 

Waking up with Duck in his arms is a compelling argument for never leaving his bed again. The clock on the wall shows five minutes until four in the morning. They’ve only been asleep a few hours, but it’s s if they’ve slipped from time entirely. The bed is a world unto itself, drk nd warm, the few square feet of it filled ll he needs to be content. The fire is down to coals nd Duck shivers in his arms. Rather than leave their sanctuary for two, Indrid finds a thick comforter kicked towards the end of the bed nd pulls it around them. The movement stirs the human.

“‘Drid?”

“Right here.” His head finds the pillow, Duck’s eyes shining in the darkness, “how do you feel?”

“Pretty fuckin woozy. Woulda thought my powers helped with that.”

“I suspect they do. A human without them might have passed out during that feeding.”

Duck yawns, nestles under the puffy quilt with a nod. 

“Go back to sleep, sweet human.”

“Y’don’t need to feed again?”

“Not at all. I may need some food of some kind later, but what you gave was supremely satisfying.” He chuckles, cups Duck cheek, “try not to look so disappointed, dearest hunter.”

“Look, you ain’t the one who lights up like New York City when I get bit.”

“On the contrary, biting you has thus far been a transcendent experience. I’ve met humans who enjoyed it, but never in the way you do. The sight of you baring your throat is second only to the sight of you at work; you look so happy when you’re there.”

“I am. Was.” Duck turns his face into the pillow.

“Will be again.” Indrid murmurs, “if push comes to shove I shall pretend I got confused as to where my grounds ended and you’ve been looking after the woods thinking they were part of the estate.”

“Think even that werewolf who’s a few eggs shy of a dozen would spot that lie.”

“I can play the sheltered, old world noble when I need to. And I can think of no nobler cause to surrender my dignity to than getting you back in your beloved forest.”

Duck reaches into the space between them, fingers trailing down Indrid’s face. The vampire sighs. The human yawns once more. 

“Shall we go back to sleep?”

“I guess. But I’m enjoyin’ talkin with you.”

“I will still be here when you wake up, and we can talk then. You need to rest, let your body replenish itself.”

“Fine, but only because I’m tryin to do what I’m told.” The whites of his eyes grow more visible, “uh, I, uh, fuck”

“Something you wish to tell me?” Indrid grins, Before Duck can answer they stiffen at voices coming down the hall.

“Damn it all, Woodbridge and them want to meet with me.”

“Should I use the bookcase?’

“Nono. In fact, I see a positive outcome if you stay. Pretend to be asleep and keep your back to the door. I, ah, I’m going to give you a surface bite, just enough to bleed. Follow my lead?”

“Do my best.” Duck tucks up into Indrid’s chest, head resting near his shoulder to give him access to his throat. Indrid pierces the skin, sending two thin lines of blood down his neck. When the door creaks open he dips his head, licking them back up with a hum. Duck gasps, grabbing the front of Indrid’s nightshirt in his effort to keep the noise under control. 

“Seer Cold, we--what on earth are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Indrid sucks the skin just below the bite as if he were still drinking. 

“Like you have a convicted hunter in your bed.” Woodbridge strides through the door and Duck tenses in his arms.

“Glad to see your eyes still work in the dark. Yes, my pet agreed to join me for my late night snack. Now kindly tell me why you all are here, as I am tired and he is, ah, shall we say, drained and half-asleep.”

Woodbridge won’t take his eyes off Duck. He’s looking at him the same way Indrid once saw a human look at an wounded, feral werewolf on the side of the road. He sits up, sighing as if he’s sad to have a meal cut short, but mostly needing to better stare the other vampire down. 

“Ah, my foresight tells me this is about the roads to the coast. Again.”

“Our attempts to work with the governor and the mayors of the adjoining cities have all come to nothing, and in the meantime citizens refuse to take the safer paths. Do you have any insights to offer?”

He studies the futures, notices himself tracing their images on Duck’s side with his finger, “I see three potential paths that may lead to success, but I will need to flesh the timelines out more fully tomorrow.”

“Very well. Good morning.” Woodbridge bows stiffly and departs, toadies in tow.

“Any of those plans take the old loggin camps into account?”

“Some. Why?” Indrid lays back down, finds Duck alert and contemplative. 

“There’s lots of superstitions about ‘em, left over from the lumberjack days. And a lot of those ‘safer’ paths y’all are tryin to set up go near or through them. Most folks’ll tell you they don’t believe any of the stories, but when they’re out in the middle of night or, y’know, December when it’s fuckin dark all the time, if they got a choice between goin near those camps and goin on a supposedly less safe route, they take that second option.”

“I had no idea, no one ever mentioned it.”

“Not the kind of thing someone wants to bring up at a city council meeting; everyone will call you a fool even if they agree with you.”

“Fascinating, that opened up a new future and a potentially successful plan. Thank you, Duck.”

“Happy to help; seems to me the attacks are gettin worse along that road, and I’d rather folks be able to move as safely as possible durin the dark months.”

“Me too.” Indeed murmurs, bends to kiss the small bite on his neck, “now, I foresee no more disturbances, so I’m going back to sleep.”

Duck sighs, curls up against him, “Right behind you.”

Indrid sleeps until ten in the morning, rises and finds the human out so deeply that he doesn’t stir an inch as the vampire changes into his day clothes and leaves the room, creeping down to the kitchen. Scuffs and clicks suggest Barclay is in the pantry, so he calls out “good morning” and looks for breakfast for Duck. 

“Got some scones leftover from yesterday if you need something fast.” The cook comes in with an armload of jars. 

“I may need something more substantial.” He waits for Barclay to set the breakable items down, “Duck let me feed from him last night.”

Barclay still knocks two jars to the ground in shock. 

“Is hell freezing over or something?”

“Nothing of the kind. There was an, ah, incident that left me in very bad shape, and he insisted. He’s fine, I think he actually enjoyed it, but I took rather a lot and I, I” Indrid rubs his arm shyly, “I want to look after him today.”

Barclay nods, “Gimme ten minutes and I can whip something up.”

“Thank you.” He turns in time to see one of the humans who works for Woodbridge enter the room. 

“Seer Cold, Mayor Woodbridge asked me to inform you that we will be leaving first thing this evening.”

“Earlier than anticipated? Nothing is amiss, I hope?” Indrid keeps his mouth in a flat line even as his grin fights to be free. 

“No, baron. The mayor feels that since your pet-”

Indrid glares at him over his glasses.

“Since, um, since Duck is cooperating, there’s no need for a heightened vampiric presence.”

“Understood. Thank you for informing me, I shall be certain to be around in order to see you all off.”

He waits until the footsteps are inaudible, then says, “Once you’re in town today, let the others know we’re meeting here a ten tonight.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Indrid hasn’t been this happy since the day before Halloween. When he arrives back at the room Duck is just getting his bearings, smiling sleepily when the vampire sets the tray of breakfast before him. Indrid stays close, bringing him whatever he needs and holding him when he asks. He stops just shy of asking if Duck will let him bathe him; that feels like it might lend the term “pet” the wrong kind of impact. 

By midafternoon, Duck is laying in the window seat, reading, while Indrid draws. 

“Do you need anything?”

A chuckle, “‘’Drid, you dont’ gotta keep fussin over me.”

“Oh, apologies, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You ain’t. In fact, I’m pretty damn comfy. But you don’t have to do all this just because you fed from me.”

“And if I want to?”

The human blushes, “Then go right ahead. I, uh, I really like it. Like bein somethin spoiled that you fuss over.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Indrid purrs, making the blush deepen deliciously. 

He says a perfunctory goodbye to his unwelcome house guests, and spends the early evening deep in conversation with Duck about the finer points of keeping bears out of cabins. When the clock strikes ten, he stands and offers his hand. 

“Come downstairs with me, there’s something I need to show you.”

Barclay, Mama, Aubrey, and Ned are waiting for them in the kitchen. Duck stops still at the sight, opening his arms when Aubrey runs to hug him with a shocked look on his face. 

“We’re y’all just waitin for Woodbridge to leave to come visit me?”

“Yes and no” Mama sits at the head of the table, “we’re here to see you, but that ain’t all.”

“Remember how I said there were other reasons why I couldn’t help you escape? This is the rest of them.” Barclay gestures to the group. 

“We’re all members of the Pine Guard” Mama taps the pine tree stitched into her coat. 

“Never heard of it.”

“Not surprised, goin unnoticed is part of the strategy. Don’t think I have to tell you that things are pretty damn tense in Kepler, and have been that way for years. Trouble is, most of the folks tryin to solve the problems are too caught up in their own motives and their own power to do much. Which leaves regular folks in danger, and makes it more likely there’ll be and all out war between the different groups. That’s where we come in. We stop the feral wolves and the vamps who like to prey on the outskirts of town, and the humans who get too bloodthirsty, like a hunter a year ago who murdered four vampire families in their beds. And that ain’t all we do.”

“We stop the abominations too, the weird, super-creepy and very hungry things that show up in the woods.”

“I’m certain that’s what attacked us last night.” Indrid adds. 

“You got attacked!?” Aubrey turns, worried. 

“I’ll explain later. The main point is, those creatures have been growing in number and frequency, and we still don’t know why.”

“Hold on.” Duck raises his hands, “how the fuck is any of this different than me bein’ in a hunter guild?”

“Because, unlike hunters, we treat killin as a last resort, not a first. And most hunters go after supernatural folk for political reasons, not to keep people safe, even if they insist that’s what they’re doin.”

“And because our goal isn’t to wipe out an entire other population.” Aubrey crosses her arms. 

“That wasn’t-”

“How sure are you of that fact, dear boy? Before they ran off, did any of the other hunters tell you what the final goal was?”

“...No. But they’re folks I trust, my friends.”

“Don’t suppose that means you know where they ran to? We need to keep tabs on ‘em, notion more.”

“Did y’all bring me down here for a reason or are you just gonna give me the same treatment Woodbridge’s men did?” Duck rubs his forehead.

“We’re explainin why none of us could risk springin you when you were in jail. We couldn’t risk drawin attention to the guard, that could put the whole town in more danger than you can imagine. And ask if you wanted to join us.” Mama seems to sense Duck’s frustration and softens her tone. 

Duck’s face is oddly flat and his shoulders sag, and Indrid spots two other people beside himself gearing up to comfort him. 

“Lemme, uh, lemme think about it y’all. Thanks for clearin some things up. I’m uh, I’m gonna go to bed, had a hell of a few days. See y’all later.”

Needless to say, Indrid has a hard time paying attention to the rest of their meeting, his mind running upstairs every two seconds to check on Duck. When his physical form finally goes with it, just after midnight, the human is in his room, sitting on his bed to stare out into the night. A few days ago, Indrid would have fussed right away, asked what was wrong. Now he knows it’s often better to let speak when he’s ready.

The vampire starts a fire in the fireplace, uses the bookcase to travel between rooms and, importantly, let Duck know he can follow him if he pleases. It’s as he’s retrieving Winnie from atop the wardrobe that the human speaks. 

“I really don’t know where they went.” Duck doesn’t turn, rises from the bed and walks towards the window, “the other chosen hunters. I kept hopin they’d double back and get me outta prison, but maybe they got the hell outta dodge. Or maybe they’re stickin close to town and figure I’m good as dead.”

Indrid stays silent, moves to lean on the bedpost. 

“Y’know, I thought it was nice havin some friends who weren’t all skull and dagger. Turns out all of mine are. Except Juno. I hope. And I don’t blame Mama and them for not tellin me what was goin on, and for playin along with you to help me land here instead of with someone dangerous. I just...ever since I turned eighteen, I felt like there were plans for me that I never got to know. First Minerva, tellin me that bein a chosen hunter meant I had a grand destiny but not tellin me what it was or why I should accept. Then you and the others doin all this behind my back, makin all these choices about how to help me without me ever gettin told what was goin on. Leaves me feelin like some toy fate gets to bat around.”

Indrid steps behind him, resting a hand on his back. Duck’s reflection looks up to where Indrid’s ought to be.

“Guess you kinda know the feelin, since the future’s always floodin your mind.”

“To a point, yes. I know what it is like to feel as though fate is something I cannot escape or change. But I consented to my powers, and am able to know what is coming in a way others do not. From what you’ve told me, that is not true of you.”

“Yeah. I ain't mad at the others, not really, but I got a lot to think about.” The human turns, meeting his eyes, “‘Drid, will you promise me somethin?”

“Anything.”

“No more secrets, even if you think they’ll protect me. I ain’t someone you got to shelter.”

Fate or fear may force his hand one day, may make the words a lie. But he says, meaning it with every bone of his body, “I promise. I cannot control others, but there will be no more secrets between us.”

Duck tips his face up, kissing Indrid’s cheek, “That’s all I’m askin for.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

It’s obvious Indrid and the other powerful figures in Kepler are making limited progress on the dangerous roads. He’s flipping through Indrid’s drawings while the vampire paces. 

“I swear there are things I’m missing, or things you could easily alert me to, but it’s so difficult to come up with them in the midst of all those people and all that stimulus and everyone wanting me to track a dozen outcomes at once. I mean, I can track twice that many with ease, but it’s aggravating all the same. 

“What if I came with you?”

Indrid skids to stop. Duck snickers, impressed by how much momentum he builds when agitated. 

“There were zero futures where you asked anything like that.”

“Just came to me now. I’ve seen blood servants goin into city hall with their vampires, so it wouldn’t set off any warnin bells if you bring me.”

“I’m more concerned with how it would make you feel. Duck, you’d have to play the subdued, docile servant in order to keep up appearances. You hate that.”

Duck remembers following Indrid’s instructions the night he was hurt, the thrum of pleasure that came with perfect obedience and being used to satiate his ‘master.’

“Not as much as you think. It ain’t pretendin to serve you that bothers me, it was the part where everyone kept tellin’ me to do that because my life depended on it, but wouldn’t tell me the rest of the fuckin plan.”

“Ah. You’re certain you want to do this?”

“I want to help Kepler, and I want to help you. This is stressin you out so bad you were talkin about maps in your sleep.”

Indrid bites his lip, adorable in spite of the fang, “alright. But we need to make you look the part.”

A day later, they reach the steps of city hall as the sun sets, Duck trailing at Indrid’s heels. He’s in black and red, the colors of house Cold (“I just picked two I liked at the time, I didn’t think I’d be stuck with the things for all eternity”). The vampire hides his grin when Woodbridge gawps as the enter the meeting room. Duck covers his laughter with a coughing fit.

As they practiced, Indrid takes his seat and points to the floor next to his chair, not even looking Duck’s way. Duck kneels, eyes on the ground.

Just as Indrid reaches his hand down, Woodbridge cuts in, “Seer Cold, tell him to go stand against the wall with the others.”

Duck spies two sets of feet on the opposite side of the table, just as Indrid predicted. 

Indrid’s fingers close on the back of his neck, “I find he behaves better this way. He is, after all, still learning his place.”

Duck has to press a hand over his mouth to keep back a moan; this is a side effect of their plan he was not expecting. 

“Besides, since you banned my using strings, he gives me a way to occupy my hands when not drawing.”

(Indrid’s unknotting of string and yarn while stressed is one of Ducks favorite idiosyncrasies). 

Woodbridge mumbles something, but doesn’t push the issue. As the rest of attendees take their seats, Duck pulls a small notebook and enchanted pen from his pocket. Aubrey designed it, and when Duck writes in it the words appear on Indrids sketchpad instead.

The first fifteen minutes are boring, consisting of overly formal greetings and review of the last meeting's minutes. Indrid toys with the short hairs at the base of Duck’s neck. If he could purr, he would. 

When they launch into discussion of the attacks on the roads, Vincent suggests asking wealthier families along the way to offer stopping points or caravans to ferry people more safely from town to town. 

Duck scribbles on the paper.

_ Won’t work near Kepler, Muffy & Winthrop only put money towards things that directly affect their view or their pockets. _

Indrid ruffles his hair, “We may run into difficulties with those who see paying for such things as not benefiting their property values.”

“And murder scenes do?” Vincent asks. 

“I do not claim to understand, I only report what I see. Encouraging travel in numbers does strike me as wise, but I am still envisioning the logistics. I foresee many families restricting help to only their own kind, be that human, werewolf, or vampire.

_ Anyone talked to Smirl family near Huntington? Lots of money, daughter definitely courting werewolf. Probably willing to offer help to everyone. _

The answer turns out to be no, and Duck is pleased with himself for thinking of it. Indrid is as well, if the nails massaging Duck’s head are any indication. He offers more suggestions or cautions as the evening proceeds, one of which earns instant approval. Other, less urgent ideas strike him, and he figures those can wait until they’re home, where he and Indrid can talk about them. 

When they leave, several voices speculate on how Indrid was able to bring Duck to heel so quickly.

“You just have to know which body parts to suck.” Indrid murmurs and Duck touches his arm where the ghosts of the last feeding show. 

They have to share a carriage most of the way back, and at first Duck resents having to wait longer to speak freely. Then Indrid starts petting his shoulders and hair cooing for the benefit of the other vampiric passengers, explaining that Duck is better than he could ever have hoped for, and wasn’t he far nicer to look at than the average human? Didn’t they just wish they had one like him?

In any other circumstance, Duck would tell someone who spoke to him, or anyone else, that way to take a hike. But under Indrid’s gaze and the teasing, entitled movements of his fingers, he melts. 

“You know, that was all the rage at one point.” Indrid says as he unlocks the main door, “having a human who you fawned over. It was before blood servitude was a punishment. There were whole agencies where willing humans were paired with vampires. The humans offered blood and companionship, sexual or otherwise, depending on the contract. In exchange the vampires took care of them, gave them everything they could want. It was how one showed status; not only could you afford to pay for a human companion, you could afford to treat them well. I know more than a few marriages that grew from those arrangements, as well as some life-long friendships, even when the humans had to retire from the position. Excuse me, I’m babbling, I’m just so pleased with how that meeting went, you’d did wonderfully Duck.”

They’ve reached Indrid’s room, and Duck follow him in without hesitating, neither of them bothering with the lights

“Gotta admit, felt nice to have all that town knowledge come in handy.” He shuts the door, pulling off his coat, “wonder how I woulda done in one of those agencies.”

“Swimmingly, I guarantee. Especially for vampires with certain, ah, predilections.”

“Predilections, huh?” Duck saunters across the room, “like gettin hard from bein’ obeyed.”

Indrid freezes as he’s pulling off his boot, grin creeping from the shadows of his face “Why, Duck, I have no idea what you mean.”

“Uhhuh, sure. Just like you didn’t keep tuggin my hair cause you knew it turns me on.”

The vampire tosses the boot over his shoulder, standing triumphantly, “I was right. You were enjoying that.”

“Yep. Just like you were.” Duck brings them toe to toe, guiding Indrid’s glasses off and setting them on the mantle. 

“Would you also enjoy continuing? I” the confidence in his posture falters, “I do not want you to feel as if it is required of you.”

“Trust me, darlin, I don’t. Been thinkin about fuckin you since I left the ball. Though, uh, given how things worked out, don’t think I earned my reward for comin back to you.” He wraps his arms around Indrid’s waist. 

“True. However, you did exactly as you needed to this evening. That deserves a reward of it’s own.” Indrid slides a hand down, undoing Duck’s suspenders, “get on the bed, as clothed or not as you please, but with you cock out.”

He stumbles a little in the dakr but makes it to the bed unscathed, getting down to his undershirt before Indrid appears from the darkness and kneels before him. 

“Mmmm” the vampire nuzzles along his open legs, “you know, a perk of arousal is that it sends bloodflow certain directions. Makes those body parts all the more tempting. Almost makes one want to…” 

Breath ghosts over his cock, followed by a tongue and the barest hint of teeth. Duck inhales, not objecting to the potential bite but knowing it’ll make him yell loud enough to break a window. 

“Fuck!” It finds his innermost thigh, Indrid forcing his legs open when they instinctively try to close. 

“Good hunters take the rewards they’re given.”

“So give me more of it.”

Indrid bites the same spot, whips his head to the other side to bruise the skin on that thigh. Duck moans, lifts his legs to help Indrid hook them over his shoulders. 

The vampire’s tongue is better than he remembers, finding the right pressure on his cock and curving up and down. Duck reaches for silver hair. 

“Ah ah, this is your reward, pet, and I don’t want you lifting a finger. So keep them on the bed or I tie them down.

“Fuck that’s good” Duck groans, gathering fistfuls of blanket. Indrid hums, drags his tongue in messy stripes before turning to bite him once more. 

“AHfuck!” Duck sees a pin-prick of blood on his leg that Indrid apologetically licks away.

“I’m sorry, I bit harder than I meant to.”

“It’s, uh, it’s fine, if you, uh, fuck, if you never do it again that’ll be fine. Fuck.”

Red eyes widen, and Indrid sing-songs, “Duck?”

“Yeah, darlin?”

“Do you want me to have a little snack while I fuck you?”

“Please.” He sighs

“Good boy.” Indrid snarls, sinking his teeth into his thigh and shoving four fingers inside at the same instant.

“FUCK! _ fuck _ , ohfuck, ‘Drid, ohsweetfuckinchrist.” He whimpers, remaining thoughts drowned out by the rhythmic, wet sound of Indrid’s hand fucking him hard and fast and the messy, slick moans of the vampire. He’s sticking with small, surface level bites, as there’s no moment of absolute tension followed by Duck’s whole body surrendering. Instead there’s burst after burst of teasing pain followed by an eager tongue or a quick suck of skin. His body jolts every time, heels hitting Indrid’s back and hands pulling the sheets free of their corners.

“That’s it sweet one, let me fuck you open like the wanton little human you are. Spreading your legs for me to feed on and ravish you all at once. How filthy. How perfect.” Indrid scrapes his teeth all the way down to Duck’s knee, his left leg falling to the floor when a fresh bite sends him thrashing. 

“‘Drid, please, I’m close darling, so fuckin close, I can feel itAHnnnnn” Duck arches as Indrid thumbs his cock, the rest of his fingers buried deep. He swears the orgasm starts in his throat, is pulled all the way down his body before exploding through him. 

“You really are eager, aren’t you? Or are love bites all it takes to arose you.?” Indrid rises to his feet, undoing his trousers while Duck tries to remember how words work.

“Seems like I ain’t the only one.” 

“Truth told, being near you is enough to arouse me most days. Which is a bit inconvenient for the rest of duties.”

“Better let me make it up to you.”

“You will, although I still don’t want you lifting a single finger.” He crawl atop him, straddling his chest, “So I’ll lift them for you.”

He grabs Duck’s left hand and forces it into a fist around his cock. Duck keeps his fingers loose, lets Indrid fuck into them with increasingly wild grunts. Traces of blood streak his face, and whenever he tips his head back to moan his fangs glint in the moonlight. Duck’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Open your mouth.” The order is panted but leaves no room for defiance. 

Duck parts his lips just as Indrid purrs, “Here’s the rest of your reward, hunter.”

Cum hits his tongue and mouth, stray droplets sliding down his chin. He licks his lips and closes them.

Indrid tugs his hair once, “I did not say you could close them yet.”

“Sorry, darlin.” Duck scoots up as Indrid climbs off him. 

“I’ll allow it. This time.” He meets Duck’s eyes, and the last traces of dominance disappear, “that was wonderful, sweetheart. Are you alright?”

“Hell yeah. Wait, uh, are my legs bleedin?” 

Indrid clambers to the edge of the bed, “In one spot, yes. Wait right here.”

He comes back with a basin of warm water and a cloth, cleans up Duck’s leg while praising him. Duck tries to stay awake, unwilling to miss a word, even as the steady pass of soft cloth on tender skin soothes him. By the time he sets the cloth aside and crawls into Ducks arms, the humans is sound asleep, dreaming of the night he just had. 


	9. Guidance

“‘Drid, can I ask you somethin personal?”

Indrid suppresses a smile; they’re naked in his bed, Indrid’s back to Duck’s chest as the human fiddles with his hair. Few things could be more personal than this. 

“Of course.”

“How’d you get turned?”

Indrid stretches, arms up and toes pointed, before spinning in the embrace to face Duck.

“By a vampiress who was only ever known as The Quell.”

“Think I’ve read about her.”

“You most likely have, she was old and powerful and sired an untold number of us. She was married to a powerful enchantress named Sylvain. They first became known to the wider world during the Black Death. Sylvain had the ability to heal others, and so she would try to save who she could. If there were people who were too far gone, The Quell would offer them a way to avoid the permanence of death.”

“She’d turn ‘em.”

“Exactly. I was one such soul, though several bubonic plagues later. They came to my town, near-emptied by the disease. All my family was dead, and I locked in the house by our neighbors so I would not spread the illness to them. I was no more than twenty two, if memory serves, and when I saw Sylvain I mistook her for an angel. I was too close to death for her help. I was afraid to die, as all sensible creatures are. When the Quell asked if I wished to be as she was, I said yes.”

It still saddens him, the dim memory of the dark, fetid house, the despair in his young heart.

Duck strokes his cheek, bringing him back to the bed.

“I stayed with them after that. Many did, vampire and human alike, for protection or out of a desire to help in their mission. Werewolves joined in time, glad to have safety from frightened hunters and nobility who saw slaying a werewolf as the greatest triumph of all. Others called us the Children of Sylvain. It was Sylvain who gave me my powers, over a century after I turned. She said she saw in me the qualities of a skilled seer, and asked if I wished to accept such powers and the responsibilities they carried. I agreed, eager to help my people, my family, and the world I fell in love with. The trouble is, Sylvain was only mortal. She lived far longer than any human, to the point that all of us, the Quell included, assumed she would live forever. It was not to be. I saw it coming before the others. The news was not, shall we say, well-received. When the enchantress began fading, The Quell begged her to for the chance to turn her, to let her stay with all of us, forever. Sylvain said she would think about it. None of us ever saw her again, and were left to assume she fled somewhere to die in peace. The Quell did not share this belief, and was convinced it was humans who had conspired to take her wife from her. Half-mad with grief, she attacked London, as that was where we’d arrived at the time. Are you familiar with Van Helsing?”

“Yeah, but I thought _Dracula_ was fiction.”

“It is, but that man was very, very real. He killed the Quell. Many humans do not know it, but the Jubilee Massacre was in direct response to the Quell’s death, some of us convinced an attack on one of the oldest vampires was a sign the humans were making a move to eradicate us. I fled the fold, as did many other children of Sylvain, living first on a remote moor-”

“Hence the title?”

“Exactly. Then coming to America and trying to use my powers as Sylvain wished me too. I held off on coming North for a long while, thinking I could head off disaster in places where there is more boiling conflict. I came to Kepler not because I believe Woodbridge has good intentions, but because I foresee carnage on the horizon if things do not change here.”

“Jesus.” Duck pulls him closer, his warmth and weight keeping Indrid in orbit while his mind fights to spin off into an endless expanse of disasters. 

“Well said.” He worries his lip with a fang; there is something else, something he’s kept to himself, the madman in the attic that might bring it all to ruins. 

_ No more secrets _

“Duck, I’m going to tell you something, and you must not breathe a word of it until I know it is safe to do so: I think the Quell is back. Or that she never died. She and Sylvain they, they had an energy to them, something one can sense. And I swear there are moments when I do.”

“I mean, that don’t seem like a bad thing? It makes the massacre even more awful if she was really alive, but she don’t sound evil.”

“I think those abominations are from her. She...she had that ability, to imbue beings with a mutated form of life, almost a half life. I only saw her do it once, but the image is not one I can forget. And I am the only member of the Pine Guard old enough to have seen it. If these are coming from her, if she reveals herself , I feat it will mean utter chaos for Kepler, the kind that travels down the rest of the continent like a match-head.”

“Well...fuck.”

“My sentiments exactly. My hope is that there is another explanation I’ve yet to find, but it’s slow going. It’s not as if I’ve had help researching; I don’t foresee it going well to tell the Pine Guard or anyone in town of my fears yet.”

“What if I helped?”Duck shifts on to his side, propped on his elbow and face in his palm, “the gardens and the woods are gonna need less tendin in the dark months, ‘specially once I winterize as much of the grounds as I can.”

Indrid could kiss him for that answer.  


Oh, wait, he can.

He leans forward, nipping the corner of the human’s mouth in question. Duck chuckles, kisses him over and over until the vampire rolls onto his back with a “eep,” the ranger crawling atop him.

“Don’t need to get started right away, do we?”

Indrid rakes his gaze slowly down his lovers body. 

“No, no we don’t.”

\-----------------------------------------

Even with two sets of eyes, Duck’s steady work ethic, and Indrid’s foresight, they’re having fuck-all luck. Indrid inherited much of his library from his predecessor, and said predecessor had a shelving system that makes Indrids piled papers and strewn notes look downright organized. 

They  _ have  _ found a few treasures; a book of illustrations that made Indrid flap his hands with glee, extremely thorough guides to native plant life that Duck has never seen, and a mouse that Winnie pursued for the better part of the day. 

It’s going on midnight, but Duck’s not all that tired. He didn’t wake up until ten in the morning, the winter light illuminating Indrid’s face and hair as the vampire sketched on the bed beside him. Duck sleepily murmured something about him looking like a painting and then stayed in bed another hour as Indrid lazily kissed his chest and belly before sucking him off. 

Duck wonders, not for the first time, what Indrid would have done if Duck came back and attacked him as he’d been assigned to. He doesn’t think that, even at his angriest, the vampire would kill him, and given what happened at the ball, he doubts his resolve would have lasted long against those lips and the fangs hiding behind him. 

He shuts the book he’s been scanning, blinks the resulting poof of dust from his eyes.

No, the more he thinks about, the more he knows he’d have ended up exactly where he is. Not because of fate, but because every time Indrid smiles his way or touches his hand, love strikes straight into his heart and burns out his veins

“Any luck over there?”

No reply. Indrid oerches on a window seat, engrossed in a red leather bound book. Duck joins him, the vampire not even glancing up at his approach. Peering over his shoulder, Duck understands why. One page is a drawing of two figures, one bent at the waist with their hands on a bed while the other fucks them. On the other page is writing in either Spanish or Italian (he can’t quite tell).

“Gettin ideas?”

“AH!” Indrid slams the book closed and hides it in his lap, composure returning in the instant it takes him to do so, “no, merely seeing if this book held any useful information.”

“Seems to me like it does.” Duck moves his hand, only for Indrid to slip the book behind his left side, hiding it. Duck snickers, “what’s wrong, darlin? Ashamed I caught you lookin at dirty pictures?”

“No.” The vampire primly turns his head away, “it was simply not a good use of my time. We are looking for information that may change the course of fate, not for an old guide to sex with humans.”

“Kinda shocked you got caught up in it; don’t strike me as needin much, uh, coaching on the subject.” He nestles against the vampires side, slipping his hand around his waist and stealthily feeling for the book.

Indrid smiles, “you flatter me, pet. But I assure you there are many things we haven’t tried.”

“Like…?”

A hint of challenge enters the smile, “You mustn't get distracted, sweet one. I know what you most desire is to bare your throat and spread your legs for me at every opportunity, but we have work to do. You may see the book later.” In contrast to his scolding words, Indrid moves the book an inch closer, daring Duck to grab it.

He takes the bait, only for the vampire to spin away at the last moment.

“Now that ain’t fair.”

“I am the master of the house, I decide what is fair.” Indrid grins, waving the tome in a taunt.

“And I’m a guest, which means you’re supposed to give me what I want.”

“You have a rather odd concept of manners.” Indrid raises up on his toes as Duck lunges forward, managing to hold the book just out of reach.

“Damn long legs.”

“Now, now, sweet hunter, do not get, ah, short with me.”

Duck stops jumping up at the book, growls, and scoops Indrid into a bridal carry. 

The vampire laughs, elated, “such strength, I should make you transport me everywhere like this.”

“Not a chance, baron, now drop the book.”

“As you wish.” Indrid hurls the book, which lands on the far side of his desk. Then the form in Duck’s arms is gone and mist winds towards the fireplace. He watches it, tracks it’s likely path, knowing Indrid will have to turn his back to retrieve his quarry. Duck hurries across the room, recognizes the change in the air that means Indrid is about to materialize. The instant he does, bending to pick up the book mid-appearance, Duck is on him, shoving him forward and pinning him chest-down on the desk. 

“Oh!” It’s genuine surprise, Indrid testing Duck’s hold on his wrists and whipping his head around to look at him. He’s half-expecting to be hissed at, or for Indrid to demand he release him. 

“Ohhhhh” Indrid melts under him, turning back to rest his cheek on the shiny wood. His glasses prevent him from doing so comfortably, so Duck releases one wrist in order to remove them and set them atop a sketchbook. 

“Well done, my sweet.” 

Duck plucks the book from his hand and Indrid whines, wiggling his hips, “You have me at your mercy for the first time and you would rather read.”

He licks his lips, “You rather I do the same thing you do when you’re the one pinnin’ me down.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what-” Indrid gasps as Duck leans down, pushing silver hair aside to kiss the base of his neck. He doesn’t have fangs but he scrapes his teeth down cold skin all the same. Indrid’s fingers flex, his back shakes, and Duck flicks his tongue out to see what will happen.

“Please” Indrid whispers, “You’ve taken my mark so many times already. I never dared to dream you’d wish to give me yours.”

Duck parts his lips, bites down to taste skin and the remnants of shaving soap. The moan from beneath him is otherworldly, half a scream and half a plea for more. How could any being, living or dead, resist such a cry? 

He bites harder, sucks the skin with a groan, obligingly rolls his hips when Indrid presses his ass back with a whimper. When he pulls off he kisses the bruise, the way Indrid always does for him, and then attacks the other side of his neck roughly enough that Indrid scratches the desk, The vampire rocks his hips forward, moaning, and a spike of irrational jealousy jabs through his mind; how dare a piece of furniture get to feel Indrid’s cock when Duck is right here.

He straightens up and flips Indrid onto his back, the vampire’s feet scrabbling for purchase on the floor. Before he can speak, Indrid clings to his upper arms, voice ragged and hopeful.

“Am, am I correct that you have an object you wish to use on me?”

“I might.” He smiles, coy. 

“Do not tease me, little human, I have a long memory and a great deal of stamina. I wish to use the second one while you have your way with me.”

“Yeah?” Duck kisses him hungrily, “you want me to go get a spare dick and fuck you, darlin?”

“Yes.” Indrid nods, nearly loses his balance as Duck abruptly lets go and hurries to find the toy and undress. It’s in one of the few unpacked boxes from the house, made of smooth glass and accompanied by a harness with a bumpy texture on the inside, one that gets him off so well, the first time he used it on a partner, he came first. 

Returning to the study, the only light is from the fireplace, by which Indrid is standing to stay warm. He’s completely naked, bathed in orange light that dances off the lines of his face and plays along the expanse of his body. 

_ Angelic _

It’s the only word Duck’s mind supplies. If he says it aloud, Indrid will doubtless laugh and quip that he’s rather the opposite. It would be a lie, and Duck wouldn’t be able to say why. Only that the man before him is divine.

“Get over the desk, darlin. Know it’s cold, but I’ll warm you right up.”

“So thoughtful, pet.” Indrid does as asked, and as Duck tips lube into his palm, he looks over his shoulder, “shall I reward you by reading to you from the book?”

“You tellin me this” he teases one finger around Indrid’s entrance, “ain’t my reward?”

“Not at all. That is your duty. You are my sweet, obedient human, ad that means pleasuring me in whatever way I see fit.”

Duck moans at the words, Indrid echoing the sound a moment later as he pushes the finger in. 

“L-let’s see, ahAAAhh, here, this one looks interesting.” Indrid adjusts the book so Duck can see the drawing of two figures in the position labeled “69,” the human blowing the vampire while the vampire feeds from their thigh.

“I do like it when you bite me there.”

“Yes, and I AH, w-would very much like to hear how those little noises you make sound when my cock is down your throat. Ooooh!” he turns to a new illustration labeled “pleasure points”, “I, I have heard of this.”

“Pretty sure I know what they are.” Duck uses his free hand to glide down a narrow hip and squeeze the base of Indrid’s cock.

“Not quite, they AHhnnnnngoodness” his forehead hits the table for a moment when Duck adds second finger, “they are points on the human body that, when bitten and fed from during sex, are said to vastly increase the pleasure.”

“Gonna guess the neck is one.”

“Oddly, no.” Indrid grins, hair falling across his glowing eyes, “you are just a wanton, needful little human who wants me to use him for dinner before deciding which of his holes to use for the evening.”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ ” Duck presses the third finger in.

“AHyes” Indrid purrs, goes back to reading off filthy ideas, some new, some familiar, and two that they did last night.

Just as Duck is slicking up the toy, Indrid perks up, “I had no idea this was in here.”

Duck rubs the head of the toy along his rim as he studies the drawing, “Breakin and enterin is a sex thing?”

“No. Well, not for most of us. This was a common practice in the Victorian era in human/vampire marriages. On the wedding night, once they arrived home the human would put on their most, ah, virginal looking ensemble and go to bed, only for the vampire to steal in through the window and awaken them , the strange vampire there to sully their purity and claim them as their own. It was all a game, of course.”

“Of course” Duck murmurs, already envisioning Indrid silhouetted in the window, telling him not to be afraid, he would only hurt him if he cried for help. 

“I always wanted to try it, but the opportunity never arose. Not that I blame the average human for finding me...offputting.”

Duck, about to press into him, pauses. 

“‘Drid? What do you think you look like?”

“Like someone who was very near death when he was turned,.”

He shakes his head, pushing slowly in, the vampire moning full-throated and grateful as he does, “You got it all wrong, darlin; you’re the most stunnin man I ever seen.”

“Duck, thaAAts very kind, but I am aware I look like a red-eyed skeleton. OH, ohhhgoodness.” He purrs as Duck bottoms out.

“Bullshit” Duck bends down, bites his shoulder and works his hips, “Ain’t a single inch of that ain’t perfect. Like these, damn things drive me wild” he drags his nails up lean legs, goosebumps rising on Indrid’s arms when he does. 

“And this” he slaps his ass, “well, lemme just say this ain’t the first time I wanted to fuck it.”

“Duck” Indrid whines, bashful, and hides his face in his arms.

“Hush, I ain’t done. I, oh fuck yeah” he finds the angle that grinds him off on the harness just right, slick coating the leather, “I wanna spend every damn minute runnin my hands over you, starin at that handsome face. God, wanted to touch you for so long before the ball.”

Indrid yelps on a sharp thrust and Duck spots pre-cum dripping down his thigh. He does it again, and again, Indrid’s moans turning to growls and hisses of pleasure the harder he goes.

“Why, fuck, why do you think I wanna serve you so damn bad? You’re so fuckin captivatin, I never wanna look at anyone else, and I don’t want you lookin anywhere but me, wanna be good for you just so you’ll look my way, fuck” his orgasm closes in and he takes Indrid’s cock in one hand. With the other he threads his fingers into the vampires hair and forces his head to the side so he can kiss him from forehead to chin, “I want you to be  _ mine _ sugar, just as much as I wanna be yours.”

His name spills from Indrid’s lips at the same moment cum spurts down his fingers. He grips his hip with the messy hand and kisses him fiercely, grunting into his slack mouth as he fucks him. The orgasm pulses through him and he rides it out in Indrid’s sensitive ass, the vampire mumbling, pleased, that Duck’s being such a good human by cumming in him. 

Duck pulls out and wiggles free of the harness as Indrid gets his legs to cooperate. He’s about to ask if Indrid is alright when the vampire throws his arms around him, holding him tight and hiding his face in his neck.

“Thank you, Duck. For all of that.”

Duck cradles his head with one hand, strokes his shaking shoulder-blades with the other.

“Any time, darlin. Any time."  


\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Birds call in the trees as he’s shaken awake. Duck recalls Indrid leaving bed earlier in the morning, saying he wanted to spend some time chatting with Barclay while he cooked. It must be breakfast time. 

He yawns, turns over with a smile.

Then he scrambles back against the headboard.

“What the fuck? You tryin to scare me to death?”

Joseph Stern puts a finger to his lips.

“No. I’m a hunter, Duck. And I’m here to rescue you.”


	10. Hunters

Duck blinks, reading the other man for any sign of a joke. When he finds none, an uncontrollable giggle claws up his throat.

“Man, where were you a couple weeks ago?”

“I had to wait until there were fewer vampires on the premises. Right now it’s only the baron, as far as I can tell, and if we move now we’ll still have a little daylight to get you hidden somewhere safe.”

The ranger shoos him backwards so he can reach for his robe; it’s warm, woven with bronze and green and smelling faintly of Indrid, who is in the habit of stealing it in spite of his own being just as luxurious. 

“Lemme guess, you gonna take me to Leo and them?”

“What? No, I’m not connected to the hunters who were in Kepler; I came from the coast on a mission that I’m not able to divulge. But I got permission from my superiors to take a risk and free you. I know you and Indrid were close before you were caught, but him doing this to you is unconscionable. So, come on.” He holds out his hand.  


Duck shakes his head, “Sorry to put you through all that trouble, but you're leavin this place alone. I’m happy here.”

Stern stares in disbelief, “Duck, why on earth would that be the case? You're imprisoned, hell, you’re lucky to be _alive_.”

“I mean yeah, given what coulda happened. But you got Indrid figured all wrong. Him claimin me was a way to protect me. Can’t say much more’n that. Wait, hold on, you put together ‘Drid is Baron Cold?”

“Once I started scouting the grounds, yes.”

“Listen, you can’t tell no one what he really looks like or who he really is. If word gets out, he could be in a whole lot of danger, danger he don’t even deserve.”

Stern touches his shoulder, “Even if he intervened to keep more violent vampires from hurting you, you don’t owe him servitude, protection, or even company.” 

“Stern, I ain’t leavin. I’m with a fella who cares about me, treats me like I'm the most important person in the whole damn world, and does things with his teeth you wouldn’t believe aw fuck, uh, never mind, ignore that last part.” This is why he tries not to talk too much before he’s all the way awake. 

The hunter raises his eyebrows, alarmed, “Did he drug you, or put you under a thrall-”

“Nope. Indrid is a real well-mannered; only times he did that was to keep me from given under torture and when I tried to kill him. Incidentally, if you’re thinkin about hurtin him, you got another fuckin thing comin’.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, or you.”

“Then I’d suggest gettin gone. Even if he’s a softy deep down, he’s pretty fuckin protective of this place and the people livin in it. And givin what happened to me, if anyone else gets wind you’re a hunter, you’re gonna be in trouble. I won't tell no one you were here, but only if you go quietly.   


Stern glances quickly at the door, then the fireplace, as if cataloguing his exit options.

“I’d go out whatever way you came in, in case he’s on his way back up here.”

The hunter nods, returns to the window, and is halfway out when he turns his face to Duck.  


“Are you sure you won’t come with me? I know you and Indrid are close, but if you’re in danger and there’s a way I can help, I want to. I don’t want to leave you to a horrible fate.”

“That is a rather rude assumption.”

Duck joins Stern at the window. On the grass below, Indrid stands in his dressing down and long pajamas, arms crossed and glare fixed on the interloper. 

“I thought you were better than this, Joseph.”

“I thought much the same of you.”

Indrid sighs, “You know as well as I Duck cannot lie. Whatever he told you, it’s the truth. Now, are you going to be reasonable or--damn it.” 

Stern sprints past Duck, ripping open the door and running down the hall towards the stairs. 

“Should we be worried about him blabbin about your real appearance?”

“No. I foresaw this timeline and asked for help.”

“Shit!” Stern is back in the room, making a doomed attempt to evade a fully transformed Barclay. He hits the ground with the growling wolf on top of him.  


“What the  _ fuck _ babe?” 

The hunter stops trying to throw the wolf off him, blue eyes widening in disbelief, “Barclay?”

“You’re a fucking  _ hunter _ ? Do you have any fucking idea what could happen if someone found out?” He’s pressing down on Stern, his hands large enough that his claws dig into the floor, manacling his arms to the floor. 

“I am very good at my job.” 

“Three people just found out!”

“...Usually I’m very good at my job.”

“Which is hunting” Indrid materializes in the room, hands behind his back as he studies the trapped man, “which makes you very unwelcome in my home.”

“I already told Duck I didn’t want to hurt you or him.”

Barclay’s ears flick as he realizes Stern didn’t mention him in that sentence. Duck expects he’ll bare his teeth and growl even louder now.   


The ears flatten, and his normal baritone takes on a whine “were you going to hurt me?”

“No!” Stern tries sitting up. When the werewolf doesn’t release his arms, he hunches forward at an uncomfortable angle, resting his head on against Barclays snout, “never. My life's work is to do with werewolves, that’s true, but, but I...Barclay, I couldn’t hurt you, even if my life depended on it.”

Another whine, upset and indecisive, as Barclay looks between Stern and Indrid. The vampire steps towards his friend, rests a comforting hand on his head. 

“We cannot let you go free, Joseph. Both because we do not know what your superiors have planned, and because you may hurt innocent members of our kinds.”

“I never wanted to hurt anybody.” Stern says quietly, and Duck’s heart twinges with recognition. 

“We need to talk to Mama too.” Barclay sighs.

“Indeed. So, you will stay in one of the subterranean rooms, near the kitchen. Locked in, of course. We will explain everything later-”

“No” Duck shakes his head, “don’t do that to him. Tell ‘im now.”

Indrid’s face is implacable. Then he nods.

“You are right, Duck. Come” he tilts his head toward the door, “this will be more pleasant in the study.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Joseph takes the abridged version of the Pine Guard story rather well, all things considered, and agrees to stay prisoner for a few days while the rest of them work out what to do next. He also apologizes to Indrid for breaking in, though he senses the hunter doesn’t fully believe Indrid is not as bad as he’s been made out to be.   


He and Duck leave the kitchen as Barclay gets Stern comfortable, tail wagging all the while. 

“Thanks for listenin to me.” The human murmurs as they climb the stairs.

“I trust your judgement, Duck. More than that, I trust your heart. And you were right; Joseph is not our enemy, not really.”

That and he cannot forget the feeling of broken glass on his throat and the way fear took over Duck’s face. The least he can do in apology is not make the same error twice. 

They have another accursed meeting with the city council tonight, so they spend the afternoon discussing Indrid’s talking points to convince them to remove curfews from the predominantly werewolf and human areas. When it comes time to dress, Indrid fortifies himself against the cold with a thick shirt and trousers and his favorite fur-lined coat, then slips on the public face of Baron Cold. Duck puts on his servants disguise, smirks as Indrid fusses over the lapels and scuffs the insignias so it looks like Duck’s been wearing it more often. 

To his annoyance, they’re joined in their carriage en route by two other vampires; he wanted to ask Duck his thoughts on the spring garden. Still, he does savor the opportunity to ostentatiously spoil his love. 

“Come here, pet, I can see you’re cold.” He lifts the complementary blanket so Duck can cuddle closer, the human hiding his face meekly in Indrid’s shoulder. To the vampires across from them, Duck looks shy, maybe even ashamed. But Indrid feels his smile, the little shudders of laughter as he makes a show of petting Ducks hair. 

“There now, isn’t that better? I know you do not wish to impose on me, but we must keep your blood warm.” He grins at the other vampires, “he is very thoughtful, and strong too. In the summer I will buy him a whole new wardrobe so he can show off his physique.” 

Since the vampires recognize him, the eye-rolls are subtle so as not to anger Baron Cold. He smirks when they finally disembark at city hall; the more others think Baron Cold sees his blood servant as a pretty toy and not a valued advisor, the safer Duck will be.

The usual council members are present, along with the vampire Indrid remembers from Duck’s trial, who had been eyeing the human with entitled hunger. He doesn’t contribute, simply sits by Woodbridg and takes notes. 

He and Duck continue their scheme, though the human has less to add at this meeting because vampire politics are more at play than human ones in changing the curfew. Indrid pets his hair as he listens to the others make their points, biting back a smile whenever he feels Duck sigh against his legs.  


They succeed in getting the council to shorten the council for the time being, and Indrid leaves in good spirits, confident enough to link his arm through Duck’s in front of Woodbridge. 

“How about a drink before we go home?”

“Sure thing, darlin.” Duck keeps his voice low, then stiffens a moment as they pass through a crowd on the street. Indrid looks back, sees the unfamiliar vampire disappearing around a corner. When he flicks his gaze back to Duck, the human pulls a letter from his coat pocket.

“Someone just dropped this in there. Got the feelin I shouldn’t open it here. Lodge?”

Indrid nods, and they head up the hill. Taking a side route and slipping in a back door allows Indird to doff his disguise. Even near the kitchen the dim of voices is overwhelming, though not surprising. As the days grow shorter and shorter, as the frost sets it’s teeth into the town, the human residents take shelter wherever they can. 

One room at the far end of the first floor is never rented out, and possess trick walls that conceal weapons and plans from the last decade of Pine Guard activity. Indrid drags a chair to the fireplace, while Duck sits at the table and opens the letter. 

“It’s from the other hunters.”

Indrid sincerely hopes it’s an apology for leaving Duck in danger. The hunters had the brains and resources to plan a string of attacks, but not save a trapped companion? Indrid does not approve of their priorities, to say the least. 

“Fuck.” Calloused fingers tear a corner of the paper, “fuck, this is bad.”

“Is someone hurt? Or are they--oh, oh dear, are they certain?” He peers at the paper as Duck stands beside him. 

_ Duck,  _

_ Can’t thank you enough for saving our skins. M lobbied to come back for you, but once the trial was on it was too risky. We’re at the coast, meeting with two other hunter networks. We got word The Quell, the most powerful vampire to ever live, may not have been destroyed. All us chosen hunters will need to work together if that’s the case, and stop the vampires in Kepler and other towns from wiping humans out, which was the Quell’s master plan. When it’s finally time for the next stage of the plan, freeing you will be part of it.  _

_ You’re tough, Duck. Don’t give the Baron anything without a fight and hang in there. We’ll get to you as soon as we can. _

_ Burn this now _

_ L _

“You were right, ‘Drid.”

“Why can I never be right about pleasant things?” He grumbles as the human tosses the letter into the fire.

“You were right about when I was gonna cum last night, down to the second.”

A laugh leaps from his chest. Then he clears his throat, knowing full well he just got so many pieces of bad news he shouldn’t find anything humorous. 

“Sorry, know we just got confirmation of some real bad shit, but I wanted to make you laugh.” Duck sits down across from him, “you ready to tell the others?”

“Not just yet. I need more time to trace the timelines, there are still so many variables that are unsettled enough that things keep changing every second. So many misconceptions too.” 

One future clarifies and he groans, “And now there’s something loose in the woods that we must deal with tonight. I’ll go inform the others.”

“Tell ‘em I’m comin with you.”

His instinct is to protest, insist that Duck is not suited for such danger. Never mind that the human has more formal combat training than Indrid’s accrued in his centuries on earth, he’s getting flashes of futures where the man he loves is badly hurt. He should forbid it, for the ranger's own good. 

“Of course, Duck. I’ll tell Mama to find you some weapons.”

\--------------------------------------

“He’s livin  _ where _ ?” Mama turns in the snow, incredulous. 

“The lower rooms.” Indrid replies, unbothered. 

“Indrid, he could get out and blow everyone’s cover.” 

“In theory, yes, but no futures show it. I suspect he does want to help us, and that he feels guilty for lying to Barclay and wishes to make amends.”

“Didn’t seem all that put out about bein where he could scratch Barclays’ ears either. Pretty sure the big fella knocked over a water jug waggin his tail.” Duck adds, studying the paw prints beneath a pine.

“I heard that.” The werewolf looks up from the ground, where he’s been tracing the scent of the abomination for the last twenty minutes.

“Indrid, I swear, sometimes I think you got a death wish-”

A howl cuts through the air, joined by a half dozen more. Barclays’ hackles rise, and Aubrey readies a spell. Duck pulls Indrid back into the center of the clearing, the Pine Guard forming a tight circle as growls wind out of the trees. 

By the light of Aubrey’s spell, first one pair of eyes, then two, then five, and finally ten come into view. 

A werewolf pack, the biggest Duck’s ever seen, stalks across the snowy ground with the Pine Guard fixed firmly in it’s sights. 


	11. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: The sex scene in this chapter is pretty intense. Duck and Indrid roleplay that Duck tries to slay him and he overpowers him, leading them to have sex (and for Indrid to feed) until Duck passes out. Indrid is pretty cruel during it, though it's clear Duck is into it, and we see them discussing boundaries before the scene and checking in during it. After care is shown.

“You” The leader of the pack, blonde with black markings, stalks forward, “you’re the ones monster hunting.”

“Easy, Hollis” Barclay stays in front of the others, sets his hackles down and stands up, “we’re not hunting werewolves, or vampires for that matter.”

“Yeah, we figured. That’s not the problem. Problem is, as far as we’ve heard it, you’re the ones who decided you could protect Kepler from all the weird shit that’s been happening lately.”

“Been doin that since before you were a pup.” Mama lowers her shotgun, watching Hollis with apprehension. 

“Maybe you have. But you’re doing a shitty job of it. We’ve lost five pack members in the last week; something keeps raiding our dens and houses while we’re asleep. At first we thought it was hunters, but I got a look at it the last time. It was like a vampire but all wrong.”

“Feral, perhaps?” Ned chances. 

“No. I know what those look like, and more importantly I never met a vampire, feral or not, who I couldn’t chase down. This one got away from me. When I compared notes with some friends in town, they said the same thing had attacked a few houses on the edge of the western neighborhoods. Like a vampire got torn apart and put back together with tar, that’s what we saw.”

Beside him, Indrid nervously flicks his fingers and whispers, “I saw no such thing coming, only the death afterwards.”

“Fuck. Okay” Mama sighs, adjusts her hat, “we’ll start patrolin that patch more-”

“Nope” Hollis raises their paw, “you had your chance, and five of my friends are dead. Y’all are officially relieved of duty. We’ll take it from here.”

To Duck’s surprise, Mama doesn’t try to stop them, in spite of the others trading increasingly frantic whispers behind her. 

“I got an idea. Be right back.” Duck jogs after the departing pack. 

“Hollis, hold on a second.”

The head wolf turns, while two of the others bare their teeth at Duck.

“Easy now, know I’m branded a hunter, but if Barclay thought I was any type of threat to Weres, I wouldn’t be out here and you know it.”

“Then why are you here, Duck?” Hollis stands, crossing their arms. 

“In the broader sense, helpin Mama and them. Right now, askin you to reconsider. Hollis, you know better than most that whatever these things are, they’re real fuckin dangerous. And you don’t have the whole story. You go after ‘em, y’all could be lookin at even more death. Not to mention, if you make a wrong move and attack someone or somethin you shouldn’t, that’s all the city council is gonna need to crack down on every pack in the area.”

Hollis considers him, “You going to tell me what ‘these things’ are?”

“If I could, I would. But I can’t.”

“Then no deal.” 

Duck nods. That’s fair; in their place, he’d do the same thing. As the pack disappears into the trees, Indrid comes up beside him. 

“It was worth a try.”

“I know. Just hope they’ll be okay.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Indrid calls them all to the house. 

“I, ah, I have put this off for far too long.” He takes Duck’s hnd, then releases it in favor of folding his hands behind his back, fidgeting as he does, “I believe the Quell is not as destroyed as we once believed.”

Mama sets her hat on the table, leans back in her chair, “Yeah, that’s what I was figurin too.”

“ _ What?” _ Indrid whips his head around sharply enough to send his glasses flying. 

“You ain’t the only one keepin things close to the vest, Indrid. I told y’all that Thacker went on a mission and never came back. He went because he thought the Quell might be alive.” She turns to the three humans, “y’all never met him, but he was a Quell and Sylvain scholar. Felt like if he could understand them, he could understand a lot about how humans and vampires could co-exist.”

“Do you think he found her and that’s why he never came back?” Aubrey flips a small flame between two candles. 

“That’s what I’m startin to fear. What tipped you off, Indrid?” 

“The form of the abominations. I have seen them before, especially in the wake of Sylvain’s disappearance. More than that, the fact I did not see what happened to Hollis’s pack until it was too late to stop it makes me suspect something may be influencing my powers. Putting them on a delay of some kind. Sylvain bestowed them on me, but it is not beyond the Quell to be able to influence them.”

“So what do we do?” Barclay drums his claws on the table.

“Here’s my thinkin; we keep up patrols, we may have to divide it pretty thin, since we’re headin towards the dark months and that gives these things lots of nighttime to work under. Indrid, try’n keep an eye on what you can. Hopefully, we can get out ahead of this mess before anyone else gets hurt. Or gets it into their heads to hurt the wrong folks. Gonna be a lot of watching and waitin these next few weeks.”

“Yes” Indrid murmurs, “ watching and waiting.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid is doing a lot of watching but, as far as Duck can tell, very little waiting. He paces, draws, curses, and draws again. He’s sleeping even less than normal, is absent minded enough in city council meetings that Duck plays the role of secretary once or twice, writing out notes so Indrid can quickly catch up on what was said while he was away with the fairies. 

Duck busies himself with further winterizing the gardens, and sneaking into the Monongahela to catch up on some work (Juno has been sworn to secrecy, something she’s glad to do for the sake of having her friend back and not being stuck with double the work, as they haven’t hired a replacement for Duck).

He also helps Barclay around the house, or sits in the kitchen talking with the cook or with Stern. The other hunter adapts remarkably well to being functionally trapped in Indrid’s house. The hickeys and scratch marks peeking from under his collar and out from his sleeves may have something to do with it.

They’re talking over lunch one afternoon (the sky already dark and frost coating the doorstep), when Duck asks if Stern worries about the other hunters coming to save him.

“Not really. Though I haven’t given them reason to. I’m still sending reports, and as far as they know I’m living at the lodge and monitoring werewolf activity.”

“You’re flat out lyin to ‘em?”

Stern sips his coffee, “There’s something odd happening in Kepler, I put that together even before Indrid and Barclay clued me in. It won’t be helped by my superiors showing up.”

“What, uh, what did they send you here for?”

Stern sighs, “To investigate a string of disappearances around Kepler. All signs point to werewolves, but the longer I’m here, the less I’m certain that’s all there is to the explanation. In some ways, I’m glad my rescue attempt went so wrong; it’s brought me into closer confidence with people who actually know what the hell is going on. To a degree.”

Duck shifts in his chair, a question--one that’s been there since Stern crept in through the window--stuck behind his teeth. 

“Joe? Did, uh, did you ever kill anyone as a hunter?”

The other man stares down into his cup, then shuts his eyes, “Yes. One wolf, two vampires. All were cases of self-defense; I nearly got my throat torn out before taking down the wolf. But” he swallows, shrugs as if his coat is too tight, “but that doesn’t make it better. Not for me. When I was recruited, they told me being a hunter was as much about protecting and understanding monsters as it was hunting them. I want to keep everyone safe, not just humans. I want to learn, there’s still so much we don’t know about werewolves, because we keep chasing them to the outer regions and-” he clears his throat, “sorry. I, um, have a lot of feelings on the matter.”

“Does Barclay know?”

“Yes. I told him the first day I was here. I think he understands, though maybe it’s easier for him to forgive me for it because he already has feelings for me. I think I feel the same thing for him, enough so that when all of this is over, I’m leaving the guild. And I think...I think maybe we can be part of making something better.”

Duck lifts his mug, and Stern takes the signal and clinks his against it, “Yeah. Maybe we can.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Every now and then, Indrid says something so insightful that Duck questions whether or not he can read minds as well as futures. 

Or it could be he’s delirious with sleep deprivation and thus speaking without thinking.

“Do you know what I would enjoy?” The vampire is sprawled face-down on the bed, voice muffled by a pillow, “if you were to awaken me in bed as you did before, voice low and threatening, only for me to subdue you in a far different manner than I did.””

“Uhhhhh”

“Oh, oh dear” Indrid raises his head, “apologies, that was too far?”

“Uhhhhhh” Duck sorts through his words, looking for the best way to say he’d imagined the same thing. As he does, Indrid slowly sits up.

“Or was it just far enough?” He cocks his head, grin glinting in the firelight.

“I, uh, yeah. I was thinkin earlier, about what woulda happened if I came back tryin to hunt you. Don’t think I woulda had it in me to actually hurt you, to be clear. Half the reason I didn’t ask for a different task from the other hunters was so they didn’t hand you off to a hunter who wouldn’t think twice about hurtin you."

Indrid looks at him with so much affection and understanding that it hurts.

"But the thought of you doin what you did at the ball but...more. Christ, gets me goin’ just talkin about it.”

“Would you like me to be cruel to you?” The vampire stands, crosses so he can wrap his arms around Duck’s waist and rest his chin on his shoulder. 

“Hell yeah. Want you to feed from me too, wanna pass out with your fangs in me.”

Indrid tenses, holds him closer, “That holds a great deal of appeal, but we would need to be careful, and thorough in our planning. I cannot bear the thought of hurting you severely, or frightening you outside the bounds of the game.”

“And I’d hate to make you think I really saw you as some mindless monster.I’d also prefer to not full-on die just because I’m thinkin with my dick, so we’re on the same page there.”

Indrid snickers, nuzzles his neck, “Right, so death is off the table. Would I merely be using you? Or punishing you for your, ah, transgression against you master?”

He shivers down to his toes, “The second one. You’re the cruel baron and I’m the ruthless hunter who doesn’t doubt his mission.”

“A play on being our own worst outcomes.” 

“Exactly. Ever since I talked with Joe, the fear of what coulda happened if I wasn’t, well,  _ me _ , and hadn’t been so resistant to bein a Chosen has been on my mind. I keep pickin at it like a scab and, uh, and I’m thinkin if we do this, it might complete the “what if” in my brain, y’know?” 

Indrid lifts his head slightly, rubbing their cheeks together, “I do. I am in favor of such catharsis, to pretend to be what everyone claims I am for the sake of your pleasure.”

Duck takes his hands, “ _Our_ pleasure, darlin. I only wanna do this if it’ll be fun for you too. Maybe, uh, get your mind off all the worry we’re goin through?”

A nip just below his jaw, “I think it will do the job nicely, my sweet.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

The clock on the mantle chimes eleven at night. It’s their agreed upon signal, but Duck’s fingers still twitch with nerves as he moves from under the covers to on top of them and straddles Indrid. He sets the dull (“it can’t even cut butter”) knife to Indrid's throat.

“My, my” Indrid lazily opens his eyes, like a cat awakening in the sunshine, “it seems my pet has teeth after all.”

“Yeah, I do. You were a damn fool, baron, thinkin you could break me and turn me into your obedient servant.”

“You are much more than that. For instance, you make a lovely bed warmer.” His smile is all fangs.

Duck growls, which only makes the vampire grin wider. 

“I been bidin my time ever since you claimed me, waitin for this chance. But you were too full of yourself, you didn’t even use your powers to check if I was still a threat.”

“Oh, sweet little human” glowing red eyes narrow, “I never thought that.”

Duck shrugs, “Don’t really matter now. Got the upper hand and I’m gonna use it. Gonna rid Kepler of you once and for all.”

“Then do it, hunter.” Indrid bites out the challenge between bared teeth. 

He hesitates, the same way he did the night of the ball. It’s part of the game, but it’s also the limit of his own imagination; he can’t even _pretend_ he has it in him to hurt Indrid. 

The split second is all Indrid needs. He flips them over, ripping the knife from Ducks grasp and pinning his hands above his head.

“I knew it.” Indrid purrs, triumphant, “you may posture and bluff, hunter, but deep down you yearn to be mine.”

Duck twists, trying to break free, “You want it too, goin to all that trouble to get me assigned to you.”

“I never said otherwise. But you aren’t really mine. Not yet. But after tonight you will be. I have been gentle with you, gave you free reign of the house and treated you well, and you repay me with betrayal. It’s high time I taught you your manners. I am going to take what’s mine, as much of it as I please. I won’t drain you dry, of course” he leans down, fangs grazing Duck’s throat, “as I want to do this again tomorrow night. And the night after.”

What runs through Duck is not exactly fear; he knows all he has to say is “Beacon” and Indrid will stop. It’s fears’ more lustful cousin, sending waves of adrenaline and anticipation through him so suddenly that he bucks his hips and kicks his legs in hopes of dislodging Indrid. 

The vampire glares at him, “Hold still”

The thrall radiates out from his head, his muscles no longer obeying him and lying limp on the bed. Indrid pats his head, leaves him there fighting and cursing the thrall as he retrieves two soft, black ropes, binding the humans wrists before affixing them to a center point on the headboard. 

“Much better.” The thrall breaks and Duck blinks, confused. 

“You ain’t just gonna keep me like that?”

“While it would be easiest, I do not wish to lord my power over you too greatly.” He smirks. Duck makes a rude gesture. It only amuses the vampire further, “Besides, I want to feel you react, feel you writhe and squirm like the needy little creature you are.”

Duck bites the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning; he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet. 

Indrid straddles his hips, stroking his hair and staring down at him, “You can still stop this, pet. All you must do is apologize for your behavior and promise to be good from now on.”

There’s a different kind of pause as Indrid awaits his reply. He’s waiting not only to decide how to continue the game, but for Duck to signal it’s alright to continue it at all.

Duck swallows, his tongue thick with pleas for Indrid to take him, promises to be better than he could ever hope. Indrid watches the motion travel down his neck. Then the human spits, catching the arm of Indrid’s dressing gown. 

Indrid slowly blinks, face remaining neutral as he removes the garment and reveals his finest black pajamas underneath. 

“I see. Well, if you are not going to use that mouth to apologize, then I will use it myself.” He crawls up to plant his knees on either side of Duck’s head and shifts the waistband of his pants down. His cock is still soft as he guides it against Duck’s lips. 

“You know what to do, pet.”

He keeps his mouth closed, exhilaration growing as he watches Indrid register the disobedience. Without warning a hand is in his hair, pulling it hard enough that he gasps in pain, giving Indrid ample time to push his cock into his mouth. 

Indrid moans and Duck can’t help but echo the sound. He loves this, loves having Indrid so close and feeling him harden from the movements of his tongue. He sucks eagerly, hums in the way that always makes Indrid sigh.

“There we are, pet. Isn’t this better than another pathetic attempt at slaying me?” Indrid coos, feeling along the line of his cock through Duck’s cheek.

Ever so carefully, Duck adds the barest hint of teeth on his next suck. His head slams back into the pillow, held in place by Indrid’s hand as his cock drips pre-cum on his lips. 

“What was that?”

Duck sneers, “A reminder that I still got teeth.”

Indrid chuckles, shaking his head, “So you do. I suppose I will just render you too overwhelmed to use them.”

With that he presses in all at once, pushing past the resistance of Duck’s throat, chuckling louder when the human gags and moans. He holds Duck’s head down with one hand, rests the other on the headboard for leverage, fucking his throat so hard that he loses the use of his teeth, tongue and, for a few moments, his brain. His chosen durability makes it easier to take, and while spit seeps from the corners of his mouth, no tears prick his eyes. Which is a blessing, because he doesn’t want to miss a moment of Indrid above him, silver hair a halo about his face and his smile wild.

“I’m close, pet. Do you want me to cum in your mouth?”

Duck nods as best as he can.

Indrid stops moving, breathing heavily, “That’s too bad. Only good little hunters get to take my cum. Bad ones get marked with it over and over, so they can see and remember just what they are good for.”

He pulls out, Duck gasping and coughing while the vampire strokes himself. Droplets hit his lips and chin, Indrid looking pleased as the last of it coats his skin. 

“Well, sweet one, have you accepted your fate? Are you ready to admit that your true purpose in life is to be mine?”

“Fuck you.” 

Indrid sighs, put upon, and starts disrobing, “Very well.” As soon as his clothes are off he sets to work on Duck’s, pulling his pants off and ripping his shirt open. 

“Ohhhh I never get tired of this.” He runs his hands from Duck’s chest to his belly and back up again. Duck blushes at the praise, and Indrid notices, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before continuing.

“Open your legs.”

Duck obeys, his own excitement overriding the game, and Indrid strokes himself a handful of times before pressing in. His pace is steady, much softer than before. 

“Mmmm, that’s perfect, pet. You were made for this.”

“N-no I wasn’t. I’m a chosen, I’m made for huntin.” The unconvincing statement is not helped by Indrid kissing and nipping his way across Duck’s chest and collarbone. 

“Nonsense” the vampire shifts up, kissing his neck and sending goosebumps all down his body, “your purpose is to be here, in my bed, taking my cock while I drink my fill.” The fangs catch at his throat and he moans, tipping his head to the side. 

A soft, venomous laugh, “Eager to be fed from?”

“R-rather you get it over withAHnnnplease” he whimpers as Indrid drags his tongue over Duck’s favorite spot, breaking his attempt at talking back. 

Indrid shifts up, as far away from Duck’s throat as he can go, “You are not the one who decides when and if I feed from you.”

“But-”

“Hush.” Indrid snaps his hips and Duck groans at the delicious denial, shutting his eyes.

Then he yells in surprise as fangs sink into his neck, his whole body going rigid as and Indrid fucks hungrily into him, moaning with his mouth full. The familiar wash of pleasure makes him relax, his body jolting with each thrust. Indrid pulls back, licks first the wound and then his lips, and then attacks the other side of his neck. It’s the same burst of pain, his body lighting up with panic at the intrusion before welcoming it deeper. 

With obvious reluctance, Indrid sits back, pulling his cock out to cum across Duck’s belly. Before he’s softened, he presses back in. 

“Even, even you don’t get goin again that fast.” He whimpers when Indrid takes another sip from his right side, purring as he laps at the wound. 

“No. But why should I stay out here, while there’s a lovely cockwarmer in my bed?” 

“God” Duck shudders, watching Indrid kiss the path of the blush staining his chest. 

Indrid’s fangs find his neck yet again, not going as deep as before. The vampire drinks slowly, savoring him, letting out little “mmms” and “ohhs” as he does, and Duck feels like a million dollar meal. The thought makes him harder, something he didn’t think was possible. He wiggles his hips, hoping to grind off against Indrid. 

“None of that.” Indrid nips his ear, “you know the rules; humans who try to kill me do not get to cum.”

“Oh fuck.” He moans. He never thought Indrid would make him go this whole time without release, and it is not helping the state of his hard-on.

He glances down, sees a drop of blood skating towards his belly, where Indrid’s cum is still wet. Indrid grins, licking his fangs, no longer bothering to wipe his lips. 

“Tell me, pet, what would the other hunters think if they saw you now?”

None of it would be complementary, and he burns with exquisite shame knowing so.

“I am waiting for an answer.” Indrid spreads messy, red kisses across his shoulders.

“Th-that I failed. That I didn’t fulfill my AHnnfuck, my destiny” Indrid’s hips are working again, fucking him languidly, “that I’m yours. That I ain’t a hunter.”

“What are you instead?” He bites the corner of Duck’s mouth. 

“I, I uh, I’m…” he clamps his mouth shut, wanting to know what Indrid’s answer will be.

“There, there” Indrid caresses his face in a parody of comfort, “I know it is difficult to say. So I will be kind and say it for you: you are my wanton human, nothing more.” He brings his mouth to Duck’s ear, “and you are so very good at it.”

With that he returns to his neck, the same slow, shallow sucking matching the steady tempo of his thrusts. He doesn’t speak, and so the only sounds in the room are Duck’s weakening moans, the vampire’s hums, and the wet thud of Indrid’s cock meeting his body. 

By the time Indrid sits up, cumming on his belly once again, Duck’s vision is a little hazy and the world feels cotton-wrapped and soft. Indrid said he should expect this, his own submissive state mixing with the toxins from the bite to make him woozy and euphoric. 

_ “It will be a bit like being drunk, but still fully in control of your faculties.” _

Indrid disappears from the bed, returns after an open and close clunk of wood and rolls Duck onto his stomach. He kneads his ass appreciatively, and after a moment a single finger teases between his cheeks. 

“You can’t still want more.”

“Oh but I can. Your blood is so very invigorating, your body the most tempting in the world. And” he squeezes his ass more firmly, “you still have not apologized.”

“M’not gonna. You're hardly convincin me to.”

Indrid laughs, “of course you find this arousing. As I said, you are perfect.” He presses his finger in, works Duck open little by little, pausing to bite the backs of his shoulders or run kisses up his sides. Even with his durability his body is turning sensitive and sore, the bites on his neck aching whenever he turns his head. 

When Indrid presses his cock against his ass, Duck’s body tries to crawl away on instinct.

Indrid slaps his ass twice, “Behave, or I will use your own blood and nothing more to ease my way in.”

Duck whimpers, eagerly lifts his ass when Indrid hauls him onto his knees, his face still smushed into a pillow as Indrid tips lube into his palm.

“Good boy.”

He shoves his cock all the way in on the first thrust, Duck yelping at the drag of it that's just on the right side of too much. It’s the hardest he’s fucked him all night, even rougher than when he fucked his throat, and all Duck can do is cling to the ropes, coating his pillow with tearful moans. His cock aches and his head swims, desperate for a means of release. 

“‘Drid, please, please let me cum.” 

“No.”

“ _ Please _ ”

“You haven’t even done as I asked. Why on earth should I bend my rules for you?”

“I…” Duck shuts his eyes, lets everything he’s wanted to say come pouring out onto the bed, “I’m s-sorry, so fuckin sorry for tryin to slay you AHnnn, fuck,  _ fuck _ , I’ll be good, I promise, let you do w-whatever you want, I’m yours, all yours oh _ fuck _ ” cool fingers rub his cock as Indrid nuzzles his neck.

“Yes, my sweet Duck, you are.”

Fangs enter his neck just as his orgasm builds. He frantically ruts his dick against Indrid’s fingers, and a broken, high moan tears out of him as his climax races through his body. The noise is nothing compared the sound Indrid makes a moment later, a snarling, hissing “yes” as cum spatters on Duck’s ass. 

His vision swims and Indrid’s voice becomes a distant sound. The last thing he hears it say is, “good boy.”

When he next opens his eyes, he’s on his back, his head in Indrid’s lap as the vampire cleans the bite marks on his neck and upper body. 

“Welcome back, sweet one.” Indrid adjusts the sleeve of his robe.  


“Mmmm” He nods to show he’s listening. 

“You were only out a minute or so, but I wanted to tend to these right away. The substances in my saliva keep them from infection, but all the same they need to be cleaned and patched up.”

“Thanks, darlin.”

“Shall I take you to the bath as we planned?”

“Please”

Indrid scoops him up. He knows vampires have enhanced strength, but it’s always a little funny when his willowy boyfriend carries him like he’s a kitten.

Indrid sets him in a chair, starts the bath, removes Duck’s torn shirt and checks the water temperature repeatedly before helping Duck in. 

“One moment” He hurries from the room, returns with a tray of food that he sets across the width of the tub, “what would you like first?”

Duck points to scone, and Indrid breaks off little pieces to feed him as his muscles relax. Then he holds a glass of warm, sweetened tea to his lips, pours more from the white teapot when Duck drains the whole thing. He hums as he tends to him, and once Duck can move his arms and hands he switches to cleaning him while the human eats. His skin is no longer sticky with blood and cum, and Indrid pours glasses of warm water down his head to clean the sweat from his face and hair. When the bath is done, he holds out the towel so Duck can step into it, dries him and bundles him over to the fire while he fetches fresh night clothes. Duck keeps his shirt off until Indrid is satisfied with his bandaging of the larger bites and scratches. 

He feels like himself by the time they return to bed, Indrid gathering him in his arms and whispering how wonderful it all was, how good Duck was, how much he cares for him and how lucky he is to have him in his life. 

Then cautiously, the words “I love you” wind through the air. 

Duck looks at Indrid, cups his cheek and marvels at his luck, at how fate dealt him a decent hand by sending Indrid to him as a friend. How since the night of the he’s known, keenly, a truth he’s never yet said. 

“I love you too, ‘Drid.”

They fall asleep face to face, and heart to heart.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Two days later, Duck wakes up alone. This isn’t weird, given Indrids sleep habits. The past two days have been bliss, Indrid spoiling him and fussing over him, walking in the garden, having lunch in the kitchen with friends and dinner side by side by the fire in Duck’s room. 

What  _ is _ strange is that Indrid’s glasses are laying, broken, halfway down the master staircase. 

“‘Drid?”

No reply

“Barclay?”

Banging, heavy and wooden, from the direction of the kitchen. There’s no one there when he runs in, but the door to Sterns room is breaking away from it’s frame. 

“Duck? Duck! Is that you? For gods sake, help me out!”

Duck searches for the keys, finding none of them, and settles on yanking the door off it’s hinges. 

Stern stumbles out, grabbing his shoulders to steady himself. 

“Thank the lord, I thought they got you too.”

His whole heart turns to ice, fear shooting between every nerve in his body,

“They, they locked me in, I didn’t know it until I heard a scuffle in the kitchen and Barclay growling, the one he, he makes when he’s afraid. I tried to get out but…” he gestures to his hands and shoulders, splinters sticking from the fabric and skin. He looks to the table, where Duck set the red glasses. And in that moment, they share an understanding. 

Whoever it was, they got Indrid too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking a short break on this story (a few weeks, max) to finish some fills and a shorter fic.


	12. Domino

“Why are we cutting through this way?” Stern stays close behind Duck as they weave through the edge of the Monongahela

“Because if the wrong people see me without Indrid, they’re gonna start askin questions.”

“I’d normally say that’d work to our advantage, since you can’t lie and so they can’t blame you for the disappearances. But even from the fringes of Kepler politics,  _ I  _ can tell Woodbridge has it out for you.” Brush cracks behind them and the hunter grips the gun at his hip.

“Wouldn’t be too worried, that sounded like a deer walkin. If we can just make it to the Lodge, we’ll be okay. Aubrey’s a force to reckoned with, Ned draws up a decent scheme, and Mama will be ready to move soon as we tell her they took Barclay.” He can see the lights of High Street, leads the other man out of the tree line and along the backs of tenement houses and cabins that show the souvenirs of Alaskan weather in every board and nail. 

They round a corner and immediately throw their hands up. Duck follows the line of the cross-bow up to a face he recognizes. Pigeon Wilson comes to the park all the time, though usually in a calmer state and less heavily armed.   


“Duck?” She lowers the barrel a tad, and behind her he sees the rest of her family. Beyond them the windows of every house burn with lamplight, revealing silhouettes of armed humans in each one.  


“The one and only. Would you, uh, mind putting the gun down?”

“One second” she waves her sister, Dove, forward, “sorry, but we gotta make sure you’re not werewolves.”

“Why? Ain’t like you never met one before” He lets Dove take his hand, sees her jab his finger with a silver needle. His powers mean he doesn’t feel a thing. Joseph, in spite of being recruited rather than a born hunter, barely winces when it's his turn. When neither of them show a burnt ring around the pin-prick, the gathered humans relax.   


“Because of the Robertsons, who live on that corner. Or they did. Found ‘em torn to shreds this morning.”

“There haven’t been any reports of a feral Were in the area.” Joseph slips his gloves back on.

“Yeah, which means it  _ wasn’t _ feral, it knew exactly what it was doing. Which means none of us want a Were anywhere nearby until we find out who it was and make sure they're put away. Or down."  


“Still say it was the pack from Hornet lake” Mr. Wilson slides a hunting knife along a whetstone, “seen them prowling around the woods an awful lot last few days.”

“C’mon now, y’all know Hollis ain’t the kind to take out innocent folks.” Duck looks between the dour faces, searching for signs of understanding.

“No offense, Mr. Newton, but you been consorting with a vampire, and everyone knows that fella is mooning over Barclay.” He points the knife at Stern who remains stoic, surveying the street with inquisitive eyes.   


“For fucks sake, I got sentenced to live with Indrid! That, uh, that hardly means I, uh I-”

“A blood servant is a far cry from a consort.” Stern turns to Duck, “all the same, we should get going. You all are clearly on watch, and distracting you could be dangerous. Good afternoon” He tips his hat, and pulls Duck up the road. 

“Really hope Hollis and the rest of ‘em got somewhere safe.”

“And somewhere that’s not the Lodge; they could put others in danger, and they’ll be harder to find in the deep woods.” 

They keep to the back streets and alleys until the Lodge is in view, slipping in through the back door as snow falls in heavy clumps and thumps off their hats and shoulders. 

“Duck, thank god” Aubrey waves them into Mama’s office where Dani curls in a chair, blanket hung about her like a shroud. Ned is gnawing his fingernails to stumps, “is Indrid with you guys?”

“No, that’s why we’re here, someone took him and Barclay-”

“Yet more evidence that something is afoot.” Ned groans, Dani's eyes widen in worry, and Aubrey smacks her head into her hands.   


“Fuck, what else happened?” 

“A bunch of guys turned up from the coast and are trying to arrest Mama for a murder! And she won’t let any of us help her, she said to stay hidden, ” The fire in the fireplace doubles in size when Aubrey speaks. 

“I” Dani shivers, “I think it’s that they’re convinced she’s hiding the real murderer.”

“You okay?” Duck kneels down, rests a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’ve been freezing since last night and I can’t even stand without help.”

Duck’s about to say that he’ll get Dani to a doctor while the rest come up with a plan when shouting echoes down the hall. Stern whirls, sending snow dust onto the wooden floor. 

“Aubrey,  _ where _ on the coast are they from?”

“New San Francisco.”

“Shit!” The hunter throws open the door and darts down the hall, Aubrey and Duck dashing after him. The lobby is the picture of impending chaos, guest milling about, onlookers peering through windows and, at the center of the room, Mama standing, handcuffed. She’s flanked on either side by two men, who are in the midst of a shouting match with Vincent and Sheriff Owens. Duck’s never heard Vincent raise his voice until today.  


“This is unacceptable! Ms Cobb is a citizen of Kepler, and a half-dozen people can vouch she’s been here-”

“For the last time” a man with steel-grey hair glares at the vampire, “we don’t think she committed the murder. But she knows who did and is harboring them.”

“Agent Hayes, wait, wait just a minute.” Stern dives into the crowd, pushing his way forward. 

“Agent Stern, so glad you finally deemed our presence worthy of an appearance.”

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

Hayes turns the full force of his annoyance on the younger man “ _And_ you seem wholly unaware of why we’re here.”

“I admit I share the head of security’s confusion as to why  _ you _ are arresting Ms. Cobb, given that this is outside out jurisdiction."   


“Because two days ago Mr. Grayson was murdered, and we think the person who did it fled to Kepler and took shelter at Amnesty Lodge.”

Gasps ripple through the room. Duck and Aubrey trade a worried look with Ned, who’s helped Dani down the hall to join them. The Graysons are the most powerful werewolf family on the coast. 

“But I thought they were, y’know” Aubrey whispers, indicating Hayes and making an obscene motion that Duck eventually understands as stabbing someone with a stake.

“The hunters on the coast are different. The governments there are primarily controlled by humans, who treat hunters as a supplementary police force.” Ned replies.

“I wanna know how you know that?” Duck watches Stern pull Hayes aside, the two men continuing to argue in hushed tones. 

“No. Easy, my dear.” He steadies Dani, who lists side to side even as she leans against him, “Aubrey, it may be best if you take your betrothed to your room so she can rest.”

“What if Mama needs help? Or something happens while we’re gone?”

“Duck and I shall keep a close on the situation and alert you if help is needed.”

Aubrey looks over at Mama; the older woman meets her eye, inclines her head towards the hall. Anyone who lives at the lodge knows that means “get gone.”

The two women make their way slowly upstairs just as Duck catches the word “insubordination” from Hayes, directed at a Stern who’s quiet rage appears on the verge of becoming loud. 

A wail of anguish, chilling as the wind and twice as loud. 

“Police! Help! Murder!” Scuffling feet and cries to get out of the way herald the front door bursting open. A vampire stumbles through it, gripping Vincent imploringly the moment she sees him, “they killed Arthur, someone’s murdered my husband, I, I left to go to my sisters and came back to, to ashes."  


“I’ll get officers for you immediately” Vincent tries to detach her hand from his shoulder, “are you certain it was murder and not an accident?”

The vampire pauses her sobbing long enough to hurl a still-dusty stake to the floor, “Does that look like an accident to you?”

Sheriff Owens massages his temples, “What kind of hunter would be foolhardy enough to go after someone in the middle of the day?”

Furious, tear-filled eyes land on Duck, “One who’s already done away with his master.”

Every head turns to look at Duck, everyone in the room save for Stern and Mama noticing him for the first time. 

“Look, I know it looks bad that In-, that Baron Cold ain’t here with me but I swear on my life I don’t got a damn thing to do with this.” He considers adding that he’s been asleep or with Stern all day but, given how the afternoon is going, using another hunter as an alibi will backfire.

“Then where’s Seer Cold?” demands one voice.

“He’d never let a monster like you wander loose!”

“Bet he staked him in his bed.”

“Please, my friends, calm yourselves.” Ned holds up his hands, “Duck is merely running an errand for the good Baron. You know how he shuts himself up at times. You’ll find what you need in the kitchen, dear boy.” He waves his hand like a grandfather telling a child to run along and play. Duck takes the offered out as Ned continues talking. Getting Aubrey would be the logical next step, or he could try for the safe house in the cellar and wait until thing cool down. The safehouse wins out because if Ned’s bullshit isn’t enough to stop a mob, at least he won’t put his friends in danger. 

His luck carries him to the cellar door. It runs out with the click of four separate rifles, familiar faces grinning at him.

“Out for a little stroll,  _ pet _ .” The human, one of Woodbridges favored cronies, smirks at him. 

“No, I’m lookin for the Baron, I think somethin bad’s happened to him.” Duck switches his attention to one of the werewolves, the smaller one with a grey stripe on his snout. He always seemed less invested in tormenting Duck than the others, “please, you gotta listen to me. I fucked up in the past, and y’all see me as the lowest of the low, but all that matters right now is findin the baron. I know your boss hates my guts, but I don’t think he wants y’all costin him his seer because you arrested me before I could save him."  


“Ah yes, I had a hunch I would find you here.” A lilting voice rounds the corner of the building.

“Oh thank fuck.” Duck’s never been so happy to see Indrid’s “normal” disguise. It may be bland and cruelly handsome, but it means the vampire he loves is safe. 

“I been lookin all over for you, Barclay too, what the fuck happened this mornin?”

Indrid blinks at him, “A change of plans, pet. And stop trying to lie to these gentlemen about why you’re here.” Sadness peeks through that perfect smile, “After all that time we spent together, I never thought you would run from me and straight back into your old ways.”

“Wha--Indrid for fucks sake, why do you think I’m the murder? You know how I feel about bein' a hunter. And, and I _promised_ you no more secrets. Meant every word of it, just like you did..” His caution flees his system in waves. He doesn’t care what the others overhear, what conclusions they draw, all that matters is Indrid believing him. 

“There is evidence you are to blame for what has transpired. Which is why, though it pains me to do so, I am relinquishing my right to you. I, I do not feel safe with you anymore."  


“Fuckin  _ what _ ?” Primal, searing panic floods his throat, drips into his chest. 

One of the werewolves snarls towards the trees. Duck doesn’t turn to look, takes a step towards Indrid before being yanked backwards by an unseen assailant. The first werewolf hits the snow with a thud, unconscious thanks to a tall, burly figure.

“Minerva?”

“Now you know why I pulled you outta the way.” Leo says as he let go of him, “woulda hurt like hell if she hit you instead.”

“Wait, everyone-” the second wolf goes flying, courtesy of Sarah Drake and a woman Duck doesn’t recognize and now it’s a full-on brawl, Indrid hissing at the nearest hunters as the wolves regroup. A warning rings out from his memories, Indrid’s fears of violence starting in Kepler, and he will be damned if it starts because of him. 

“Would everyone just fuckin stop for two goddamn seconds!?” 

“Down!” Leo pulls him to the ground as the human with the rifle fires at them and misses. There’s a tremendous crack, gunpowder clouding what little air is unoccupied by snow. Duck waves his hands to clear it. The first thing he sees is Minerva holding two halves of the gun and sticking out her foot to trip its former owner. 

Behind her, the remaining hunters subdue and restrain the wolves. Snow accumulates on a palm, flat and limp on the ground. For a horrible moment he wonders which of the hunters is dead. Then Minerva steps forward, offering her hand to help him up, and the scene hits like an ice-pick through his mind.

A black-clad figure lays in the snow, a stake through its’ heart.

“I am sorry we did not come sooner, Duck Newton.” Minerva rests a hand on his arm, “but you have nothing more to fear. The Baron Cold is dead.”


	13. Ashes

“No. Nononono _ no _ !” Duck scrambles across the snow, clutching at ash and empty air, “Indrid!”

“”Hold on” Leo indicates the rest of the hunters should disburse towards the lodge, “Indrid? The fella who was always hangin off you? He don’t look a damn thing like Baron Cold.”

“That was the fuckin point! He’s on our side, on my side, he was stayin disguised so he could have a normal, safe life sometimes, and he, I, I-” He turns back to the indentation of a body in the snow, “he loves me. We supposed to keep each other safe and I, I” nothing else is coming, his mind too flooded with the previous night, Indrid in his arms, and the horrible, gutting nothingness in front of him. 

Minerva and Leo exchange a worried look; they think he’s insane, falling in love with his captor.

Duck smooths his hand over the empty coat, “When you sent me to slay him, he found out, we fought some but, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him and he didn’t hurt me.”

“You lied to us?” Minerva’s voice is unusually soft. 

“And I woulda done it again in a goddamn second if I’d known this is what you were plannin.” He snarls, then covers his mouth to cover a more broken sound. 

The back door of the Lodge opens, voices spilling out along with the light, “I leave for ten minutes Ned, ten minutes, and Mama’s being carted off, Duck is gone, and someone’s rounding up a hunting party!”

“In my defense, dear Aubrey, even my charm only goes so far with an angry mob.” 

The spellcaster’s boots crunch on the snow as she comes to a stop, “Ummm, what the fuck happened here?”

“We got here just as Duck was gettin cornered. Maybe.”

“Indrid found me, was sayin he was gonna send me to someone else and then, then someone-” Duck points to the pile of clothes, eyes stinging.

“Ohmygod” Aubrey covers her mouth.

“Dare I ask why you chose to return now?” Ned sounds truly angry as he studies the hunters. 

“We were informed that the vampires in Kepler were planning a full take-over with the aid of the Quell. From the unrest in the air, it seems that is correct.”

“Who told you that?” Aubrey kneels by Duck, and he shifts weakly into the offered hug.

“One in our network?”

“ _ Who _ ” Aubrey says again, “This whole freaking day we’ve had people saying they heard humans did this thing or werewolves did this one and no one actually has any proof, they’re all just jumping to conclusions and I’m sick of it! My girlfriend is terrified, one friend is dead, another one is missing, and Mama is in jail! This is _bullshit,_ and I am going to find out who’s causing it.”

A cloud of breath appears down the slope into town, followed a moment later by Stern.

“AArgh, why aren’t you staying with Mama?” Aubrey throws up her hands.

“Because she ordered me not to and go find Barclay instead, and at this point I’d rather listen to her than Hayes.” The hunter takes in the scene, eyes stopping on Duck’s face and the ashy clothes. He doesn’t say anything, but his face takes on a resolute set. 

“I vote we start searching before we lose anyone else. Are there any other werewolves in the Lodge who could help us?”

“Jake might. I’ll go find him. And I’m bringing Dani with us; no way am I leaving her here when everyone’s so scared they’re treating friends like enemies.” Aubrey melts snow from her coat as she tromps back inside.

“Duck? Are you-”

“I’m comin with y’all.” He stands, wiping his eyes as he answers Stern.

“But Duck Newton, we must prepare for the fight, we will need all hunters.”

“No.” Duck squares his shoulders at Minerva “I ain’t a hunter, and I ain’t playin their game. Someone is stirrin up all this trouble, I’ll lay my life on it, and I ain’t takin’ part in tearin the town I love down to broken boards and bent nails. I’m gonna find my friend, and then I’m gonna put a stop to all this. It's what Indrid” he forces a breath in and out, "what Indrid would want."  


Minerva looks ready to argue, but Leo turns her towards town, “C’mon, the others are waitin for us. Good luck, Duck.”

“Thanks” he replies, voice flat and rough. He watches the snow fall with unfocused eyes until Aubrey emerges with Jake and Dani.

“Do any of you have, like, something with a scent on it? Because otherwise I can’t really help.” 

Stern undoes his scarf, “Here, this is Barclay’s, it should still have enough of his scent for you to track.”

“Sweet” Jake transforms, his fur white and plush, and sniffs the blue fabric. Then he drops to all fours, letting Dani climb onto his back as he snuffles the ground. 

“Dudes! I got a trail.”

“Thank the lord.” Stern sighs. 

Duck steps beside Ned, who rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Alright, Lady Flame and noble beast, lead the way.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------

“This is going to be a disaster.” Indrid tucks his bound legs closer to his chest. 

Barclay whines through his muzzle. His paws are double-ironed with silver coating because Reconciliation, as this group calls themselves, are a bunch of sadists. 

Indrid is restrained with less intensity, and could still turn to mist or moths and escape. But they’ve made it clear the instant he tries that, one of the three guards in the chamber will put a silver bullet through Barclay’s brain. 

The futures are minimal help as, after they’d grabbed him on the stairs and carted Barclay and himself to the abandoned gold mines, the first being he saw was the vampire who’d been circling him and Duck for months. 

_ “Since we have not formally met, you may call me Lord Collins. Glad you could join us, baron.” _

_ “I cannot say I share the sentiment.” _

_ The other vampire shrugs, “That doesn’t really matter. What matters is this” he reaches into Indrid’s front pocket, removing his disguise charm, “and this” he opens his other hand, blows white powder into Indrid’s face. The futures stutter and slow, like water trying to resist turning to ice. _

_ “A handy charm from one of our spellcasters; it inhibits your seer’s skill, and is easily deposited in a cup of tea or dusted on your shoulder as you pass through a crowd. Especially when you’re distracted.” _

_ “Let me guess; you, like many now and many before and, unfortunately, many to come see my powers as interfering with some scheme and choose to take it personally?” _

_ “Almost. We know for certain you are a threat. But you can also be useful.” _

_ “Then let Barclay go. He has not part in this, and while he is talented in the kitchen he’s not much for machinations.” _

_ “We had to keep him from aiding you, and the more disappearances and deaths this morning, the better. Besides, threat of harm to him will keep you in line. You’re not as clever as you think baron, nor are you and Madeline Cobb the only people in this territory capable of subterfuge or with inside sources.” He gestures to a door and it creaks open, revealing- _

_ “Thacker?”  _

_ Barclay nods, growling at their captors. _

_ “We’ve had him under thrall for well over a year. He spends much of it catatonic, unless we need information about the Pine Guard and how it functions.” _

_ “Then it was not the Quell who stopped his return.” _

_ Lord Collins slams the door, “Not in the least. It did not take that skilled a spellcaster to corrupt local wildlife in the same way the Quell is said to have. We needed everyone to believe she is alive, but she remains as dead as her beloved sorceress.” _

_ Indrid cocks his head, thinking, and then groans, “You wish people to think she is back so they, like I foolishly did, assume a vampire uprising is imminent and fight back against a threat that was never there.” _

_ “Right you are. You see we, the members of Reconciliation, believe that the way humans, werewolves, and vampires coexist can never work, not truly. They are all violent, aggressive races, and should have been kept separate. We must show the world how unsustainable the current order is.” _

_ Indrid trades a look with Barclay, who rolls his eyes and huffs. _

_ “Need I point out that your organization is made of those same three groups. How do you intend to continue once all is chaos?” _

_ Collins doesn’t reply, simply crosses the room to where several other vampires sit, tracing routes on maps. Indrid knows the answer, even with his weakened foresight; Reconciliation will take power, then it’s factions will tear each other to pieces over it without a second thought to the world and lives they destroyed.  _

_ “Take this. Do as we practiced.” Collins hands Indrid’s disguise to another vampire, who bows and slips it on before leaving.  _

_ “You know,” he smiles at Indrid, “if you hadn’t been so distracted romancing your servant, you might have seen us coming.” _

_ “I have not idea what you mean. Duck was assigned to me against his will and bears no affection for me.” _

_ Collins bends down, “Liar.” _

_ “If you say so.” He longs for his glasses, for some screen between his emotions and the world. _

_ “Well, if that’s the case, you won’t mind that my compatriot will, as you, tell him he is no longer in the service of Baron Cold. He’s been practicing his impressions of you.” _

_ Indrid tastes his own blood from biting his tongue.  _

_ “He’ll be assigned to me instead.” _

_ “No, he will not. He is as stubborn as humans come, rude as well, and you have no use for him.” _

_ “Baron Cold, you could not be more wrong.” _

Those words curl around him, hissing in his ears as he hums to calm himself and fights to see the future. There’s too much turmoil in town, everyone is changing their minds and learning new things so rapidly that the futures never settle even when he sees them. Fate is cruel enough to give him hints of his friends in danger but now how or if it can be stopped. 

He has to go to them. He has to find Duck, to undo whatever lies they’ve told him. He has to do  _ something _ .

A flash of a future, improbable but in reach. Indrid scoots closer to Barclay, rests against him with his bound hands in his fur. Presses his fingers deep enough to touch skin. Slowly, he spells out a question.

“D O Y O U T R U S T M E”

Barclay’s gaze takes in the guards, their weapons, and chains on his body. He nods. 

Indrid turns to mist, metal clattering on the floor as he flies across the room to the wooden table. As the middle guard raises his rifle, Indrid appears and hurls the table at him. It catches the barrel, sending the shot wide. Barclay yelps, understandably frightened, as Indrid sinks his teeth into the nearest guard. He doesn’t need them dead, just unarmed, and their cries of pain draw the other two guards to him. This is a very bad idea on their part. 

The one who tried to shoot Barclay goes down easily, flailing in panic the instant blood flows from his neck. The third, being a vampire herself, poses a problem. Indrid narrowly dodges a knife to the throat before he digs his fingers into her eyes. 

“That was deeply unpleasant.” He’s underscored by wails as he undoes Barclay’s muzzle and chains. 

“Yeah, not super fun for me either.” The werewolf shakes himself out, ears pricking up with the clamor of oncoming trouble, “we’re not leaving Thacker, right?”

“Not a chance. You hold the door, I will get him free. Then we make a run for Kepler and hope we are not too late.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck and the others make it ten steps into the mine tunnel before they’re attacked from all sides. He draws Beacon, ready to fight, when orange light sweeps out to the edges of the room, all but one figure--a werewolf--falling to the floor.

“Uh”

“Huh” Aubrey looks at her glowing hands, “that’s a new one. You.” She points at the alarmed werewolf, “explain what the fuck is going on. Please.”

The werewolf whines a moment, then his words come in a babbling stream, insisting that Reconciliation (who’s base they’re now standing in) needs the violent factions of Kepler to wipe each other out so a new, peaceful world can be born. 

“...I the only one seein a problem here?” 

The others shake their heads. The werewolf blinks, puzzled. 

“Y;all are made up of those same goddamn groups you say can’t coexist! How the fuck is that gonna work?”

“You know, you’re the second person to ask that today.” A voice from the shadows, a vampire with a dimly familiar face emerging with a bow, “Lord Collins, one of the heads of Reconciliation. I’m glad we can formally meet, Duck Newton.”

“I ain’t.”

The vampire grins, amused, “Like master, like servant. To answer your question: once the conflict we’ve begun ripples down the continent and leaves ash in it’s wake, the most competent members of our order will take charge of those who remain.”

“You seem real confident that’s gonna include you.”

The vampire looks bored, “Well, it certainly won’t have any of you” Lord Collins whistles, and a massive, oozing form breaks through, cutting Aubrey, Jake, and Dani off from the others. The shock disrupts Aubrey’s spell, and the unconscious figures start rising. 

Ned is already firing on the monster, and Stern draws his weapon with a pointed look over his shoulder, “We can handle this. Don’t let him get away.”

Duck sees Collins disappearing down a hall. All the rage and sorrow in his heart propels him forward, down, down, down the dark tunnel until his foot misses a step and he flies forward, scraping and rolling deeper into the earth. His stake goes one way, Beacon another. As he follows the creaky voice on his hands and knees, the vampire taunts him just out of sight. 

“My scouts say Baron Cold is dead, but was able to deliver a message to you before he departed.”

“Shut up” 

“Did he tell you who he was giving you too? Me.”

Duck keeps quiet; heartbreak or no, he knows when he’s being goaded. 

“Do you know why it is so important that happen? Of course not, they never told you the reason there was such pressure on you to accept your destiny as a hunter. You were supposed to be the most heroic hunter that ever lived, one that would bring an end to the unrest in Kepler and beyond. But not as one of us. I was meant to keep tabs on you, keep you broken and restrained until we knew whether you were the threat prophecy said you were. Then you had to go and fall in love with a vampire who would put his own safety at risk to protect you. There was a great deal of debate about what to do with you, though we did reach a conclusion.”

Light floods the space up ahead. Beyond the broken boards and half-covered side tunnels, three men emerge, two carrying the third between them. One looks this way and that, checking for danger with red eyes. Red eyes in a face Duck thought was gone. 

“Indrid!”

“Duck! Oh thank goodness. No, wait!” Indrid throws out a hand as Duck steps forward. 

Movement from a side tunnel and then horrible, gurgling pain in his throat. 

“You know what’s nice about stakes, Duck Newton? You can kill a human with them as easily as a vampire.” Lord Collins murmurs in his ear, though the sound is distant, as is the light from the room and the thrum of his heart. His fingers make abortive attempts to lift up and pull free the stake lodged in his neck.

Blood fills up his mouth, seeps out, and Lord Collins wipes up a stream with his thumb. He sticks it between his lips, sucks it clean and grins, “I think you can figure out the conclusion we reached about how to deal with you.”

He doesn’t care what that vampire says. All he wants is his vampire, his Indrid. He wants to go home. He wants to see him one more time. 

A cold hand on his back, orange light blinding him. 

“When I say to, pull it free” Dani’s voice behind him, but not her voice at all. 

“What is the meaning of this? Let me go you witch!”

“Nope” Aubrey’s voice and not her voice all at once. 

“Now” 

The stake leaving his throat is worse than it entering, the last of his life leaving him in a waterfall of pain.

Then it rushes back, roaring in his ears as he topples towards the floor. Someone catches him, and he knows without turning who it is. 

“It’s alright my love, it’s alright, I have you.”

As his eyes clear his mind fights to comprehend the scene before him; Aubrey, bathed in orange light and Dani, bathed in red, standing hand in hand. Dani’s magic throttles Collins, pulling a dark thread from him, running it through to Aubrey, who rests her free hand on Duck’s heart. 

The wound closes as Collins screams and dissolves to ashes. 

“What the fuck?” his throat aches when he speaks

“This is what I was tryin to tell y’all.” A very bedraggled Thacker kneels to the ground, eyes on the two women, “We were wrong, but so was Reconciliation; The Quell was reincarnated, not just reborn, and so was Sylvain. There were hints of them, like smoke from a dead fire, that we were seeing, but they were dormant until the people and place their new hosts loved came under threat.”

Duck rubs his forehead, “you, you uh, you took his life force and gave it to me? Or, uh, am I-”

“No, my love, you are not a vampire now. I believe that is why they ran the transfer through Sylvain. It let it meld with your human life force.”

He turns, finally able to see Indrid properly, “I...Indrid, it’s really you?”

“Of course.”

“I saw you die. I thought, I thought” tears well up and he curls into him, Indrid doing his best to hold the human in his lap, "I thought I was never gonna see you again."  


“I am so sorry, my love. I would never forsake you as he claimed, and I will do my best not to be slain.”

“G-gee, that’s reassurin” he sniffs.

“These are not the most comforting circumstances. And I am trying to only make promises I can keep.” Indrid kisses his tears away, cups his cheek as Duck clings to him. 

“I hate to interrupt” Dani’s voice is clearer now, “but can you see how we can stop the riots in town?”

Indrid keeps his eyes on Duck, so the human can see the grin blossoming on his face.

“We may yet have a chance. And, as luck would have it, it’s one in which telling the truth can save us.”

They make it to the edge of town, staggering down the slope towards the center of Kepler. There, Duck witnesses a miracle. 

Minerva, Leo, and the other hunters face different factions of the armed (or transformed) crowd, arms out in gestures of calm. 

“I think hell just froze over” Stern points further down the square, where Hayes and his men are doing the same thing. Mama is shouting towards a pack of werewolves, and seems to be making progress in calming them down. 

Duck manages to reach Minerva, “You listened to me.”

“Yes. You were right, Duck Newton. We were primed for war, but that was not the solution. Not truly.” She smiles, then scans the crowd with worry, “but I fear we will not be able to keep the peace forever.”

“I got it” Duck climbs onto the porch of the lodge, looks out over the crowd as Aubrey casts a spell over his voice.

“I need y’all to listen to me, please. It, uh, I’ll try to keep it quick.”

More and more of the crowd turns to look at him as he speaks. 

“I know you’re scared, and I know some of you just lost folks you love. But I need you to believe me when I say it wasn’t anyone here who did it. There’s a group that’s been playin us against each other, hopin’ we’ll wipe each other out. Hopin we’ll give into our worst impulses and hurt folks who done us no harm. It don’t have to be like this. It never has.” He holds out his hand and Indrid steps beside him to take it, “it don’t have to be us versus them, vampire versus wolf, any of that nonsense. We work side by side, love each other, look after each other.” To his left, Aubrey lends against Dani. To his right, Barclay stands on his hind legs and wraps his arms around Stern.

“That don’t mean there ain’t wrongs that need to be righted, powerful folks who need to be held accountable for pittin us against each other or tryin to keep some of us down. But I think we can do it. I believe in Kepler. What we have ain't workin. That don’t mean we can’t help something better grow. I believe in us.”

He’s speaking to the crowd still, but he has eyes only for Indrid.

“I believe we can make this work.”

The vampire leans cautiously forward, Duck meeting him halfway for the kiss. All around them, the angry murmurs of the crowd turn to cheers and weapons are laid on the ground, forgotten.   



	14. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Indrid and Duck play a scene Indrid described in a previous chapter that could read as dubcon at the beginning, but it's clear both from context and within the roleplay that their is enthusiastic consent.

_ From the diary of J.Stern _

_ October 31st, 1912 _

_ A momentous day! Spent the entire morning helping B. set up the hall. Jake kept demanding I display the results of my visit to see the rest of Barclay’s pack. It turns out it is much easier to hang bunting in a Were form.  _

_ I’m quite certain Indrid spent the morning and afternoon as mist, it was difficult for anyone but B or Duck to locate him. A far cry from Dani and Aubrey’s wedding last year, where the pair were dashing everywhere to see everyone. Still, when he and Duck descended the stairs to begin the ceremony, he looked happier than I’ve ever seen him. His suits have taken on a more modern cut of late and this is no exception. Duck kept his boots on, saying it was to remind Indrid of old times. I've learned it's best not to ask when they give each other that certain "look."  
_

_ The ceremony began just after sundown so no vampiric guests had to fear being burnt on their way. The vows were simple, though from the secret smile on “long as we both shall live” it’s clear the two grooms have had some discussion of their respective life spans. Given the werewolf bite on my arm is not even fully healed, I’m not in much position to judge whether Duck will one day let Indrid turn him. Nor do I care to; they are my friends, and I want them to be happy. Given how they hardly looked anywhere but each other’s eyes, I suspect they will be.  _

_ B is calling, dead on his feet and laid out in the bed in nothing but his robe, so I will end this here.  _

\--------------------------------------------------

Duck cracks the window, the air of the earliest hour of November rustling the curtains and adding to the goosebumps on his arms. His wedding suit hangs in the wardrobe, his shoes rest by the door, the needles and leaves of the Monongahela whisper their secrets in the distance. From the closed door to his left, his husband hums the melody of the last dance of the evening. It’s peaceful in a way he once feared his life could never be. 

They debated staying at Ducks’ home in town, both of them preferring it’s cozy, sturdy security to the vastness of the hall. The cavernous rooms are well-matched to a wedding or other gathering, but the two of them find it lonely when empty, and Duck can never shake the fear that the man he loves will head into a far section of the house and never return. But tonight they’re that swimming in the mixture of giddiness and exhaustion that follows a wedding, and Duck knows they wouldn’t have made it into town; they’d have either fallen asleep under the trees or fucked in the dirt and  _ then _ fallen asleep under the trees. 

He pulls on his nightshirt, decides to leave it at that so as not to waste time once his husband joins him. Laying down, he props his hands behind his head with a sigh. Won’t be long, now. 

Shifting his attention to the far end of the room, he realizes there’s no humming, no pad of feet, no sound at all beyond the door. As he’s about to speak, dark mist collects in the open window, turning to a lean, silver-haired, grinning form.

“My, my, what a sight. You should be careful, laying like this by a window. Such deliciousness on display might give someone ideas.” Red eyes glide down his face and chest, stopping pointedly on his dick before continuing all the ways to his toes. 

“We’re on the second floor.”

“Not all creatures travel on foot.” The fangs in his smile glint in the lamplight. 

“No kiddin, and some of ‘em don’t got the manners god gave a squirrel.” Duck sits up, crossing his arms. 

“Oh dear, am I interrupting something?” The voice is warm honey, sticky and tempting. 

“Yep. It’s my weddin night, and the best man in the world is about to join me in bed. So, get gone.”

“Your husband is a lucky man.” The vampire, having made his way leisurely to the foot of the bed, folds his hands behind him and stares posessively at the human. 

Duck smiles, “Not as lucky as me.”

The vampire, “Such a sweet little morsel.” 

“I ain’t a AHfuck!” In a blink the vampire lunges forward, trapping him against the headboard. 

“What was that, pet?”

“I, I said I, I ain’t” He turns his face away, the hungry gaze making him unsure as to his true answer.

Cold fingers grip his chin, forcing him to meet the red eyes dead-on, “Trouble with your words?”

Duck nods.

“Then let me help you” the vampire leans closer, lips nearly touching Duck’s trembling mouth, “you are the most tempting, mouth-watering,  _ perfect _ morsel I have ever seen. And I intend to have my fill of you.”

“Y-you wouldn’t, my husband-”

“Took one look at me and fled. We are alone, you and I.” A soft bite to his lower lip, “He practically gave you to me, laid out like a fine meal to enjoy as I please.” His free fingers trace down Duck’s throat. 

“Please, don’t, uh, don’t violate my uh, my t-tender virgin throat.” He forces his lips shut.

The vampire blinks at him, raises an eyebrow, and that does it. A guffaw bursts out of Duck, the contagious sound making his bed mate shake--and then collapse forward--with giggles. 

“I suppose that is indeed a lie.” Indrid laughs into Duck’s shoulder.

“No kiddin’, almost as bad a one as pretendin the rest of me is virginal, considerin your ass is still sore from yesterday.”

“Indeed. Do you wish to continue?”

“You know it.”

“Very well” Indrid clears his throat, snickers again, clearly struggling to get his face to look even the barest bit menacing. 

“C’mon” Duck nudges him playfully with a knee, “what happened to despoilin my purity?”

“You are not helping.” Indrid stifles another laugh behind his hand. 

“Not tryin to.”

Indrid levels him with a playful glare, “Behave, pet.”

Duck catches his right hand, brings it up to kiss, “Okay, darlin, ready when you are.”

A smile sweeter than candy and as innocent as a first kiss. Then it morphs with hiss, Indrid twisting his hands up to pin them against the carved wood. 

“Please” Duck musters his best breathless whisper, failing to disguise his excitement, “please don’t hurt me.”

Indrid nuzzles his cheeks, teases his lips with kisses, “Oh my sweet, I have no wish to harm you. I want you to enjoy this as much as I do. I want to drink you in as you writhe with pleasure.”

Duck slides his hand under the pillow, feeling the base of the cross he hid there earlier. It  _ scuffs _ across the blanket as he brings it to Indrid’s face. In spite of it barely being enough to deter Indrid at his weakest, the vampire sits up with another hiss. 

“You gonna give me a reason to let you do that?” 

“Ohhh” Indrid purrs, “my pet has a request. How charming. How about this, dearest; I do not have just one reason, I have six.”

“Keep talkin.” 

Indrid traces his fingertips over Duck’s thighs, “There are places on your body that, if you let me feed from them, will cause you to cum with very little effort.”

Duck tosses the cross away, “Okay, I’m sold.”

“Such an accommodating little human.” Indrid undoes his pants as Duck pulls off his shirt. The vampire strokes his cock, licking his lips, but when he goes to settle between Duck’s legs the human keeps them shut.

“Nuhuh, I want a demonstration before I let you fuck me.”

“Very well. Give me your arm.”

Duck obeys, Indrid catching his right wrist and kissing a line to just below his inner elbow, glances up to meet Duck’s eyes, “Perfect.” 

The teeth break the skin and Duck’s eyes roll back, snap shut when Indrid’s fingers find his dick. The bite isn’t deep, not like when Indrid feeds full on, and even through the waves of sharp pleasure there’s the glide of a tongue. When Indrid raised the idea of pleasure points, Duck assumed the effect was exaggerated, but every pulse of sensation on the bite shoots straight to his dick, and barely a minute later his orgasm hits him without warning. 

“Holy fuck.”

Indrid licks across the bite with a smug grin, gracefully shifts to the other side.

“Is it AHHhnnnnfuck, ‘Drid” he flails his legs weakly as the vampire finds the same spot on his left arm and elects to rub his dick with twice the pressure as last time, “ahgod, sweet fuckin christ that’s good.”

He gets an obscene slurping sound in reply, barely has time to register the rush of pleasure as his orgasm is underscored by the vampire smacking his lips. 

“Mmm, I knew it, not only are you the most handsome man I have ever seen, you are the sweetest human I have ever tasted.”

Duck whines gratefully at the praise, then his stomach hits the bed as Indrid unceremoniously flips him over. The vampire intersperses his next words with kisses, zig-zagging down Duck’s back. 

“Now, let me see, the next spot should be right beneath this delectable ass of yours.” He presses the left side of Duck’s ass up, thumbing at the spot where it meets the top of his thigh.

“Fuck!” Duck jolts when his teeth replace his thumb; the skin, having less exposure to light and touch than his arm, is far more sensitive, a fact which amuses Indrid. The vampire abandons the single bite in favor of sinking his teeth into the spot again and again, laughing whenever Duck moans. 

When two fingers slip inside him Duck cries out, ecstatic, and pushes his hips back.

“Goodness, pet, are you trying to break my nose?”

“No, fuck, no it’s just so fuckin muchGAH” Indrid curls his fingers, making Duck repeat the motion. There’s an exaggerated sigh and Duck whimpers as Indrid sits up. 

Indrid grabs his hair, forcing his head to the side so he can look him in the eye, “hold still.”

The change is fast and unstoppable, the thrall sending him as flat and helpless as the mice Winnie terrorizes into corners. 

“Much better.” Indrid takes up his previous position, pushes Duck’s legs apart, and shoves four fingers into him as his teeth find the same spot under his ass. All Duck can do is groan, whimper, and beg as his husband fucks him through another orgasm. He barely pauses before switching sides, and even Duck’s sturdier than average body is feeling wrung out but the relentless thrum of pleasure. 

“Don’t you need--oh fuck--a break, maybe someFUCK, some water?”

“No” Indrid replies mildly over the sound of his fingers fucking Duck, “fresh blood and the cries of my needy, obedient human sustain me.”

“M’not obedient.” Duck conjures the ghost of the shame that used to haunt him, scold him for being eager to do what Indrid asked. 

“Oh but you are. I will show you. Cum for me.”

“It don’t work like thaAAAaatfuck, oh you, you used fuckin foresight to see when I’d fuck _ fuck _ ” His body almost breaks the thrall on it’s own as the orgasm rips through him.

“See? You are such a good, obedient human you will do what I tell you, when I tell you.”

“Uhhuh” He slurs into the pillow. Indrid laughs fondly, and the thrall breaks. 

“Now” Indrid sits them up, steadying Duck in his arms, “the final two points are here.” He indicates the skin just below Duck’s collarbone. Keeps one arm looped around his waist while the other caresses the human’s face, nosing and licking and kissing his way from his throat down to his target. Duck’s body is still singing with the last orgasm, so all he can do is sigh happily as a stray drop of blood slips down his chest. 

“I gave you back the use of your limbs, pet, are you going to use them or not?”

Duck slides his right hand between them, curling his fingers around Indrid’s cock to stroke him slowly.

“So good, my sweet, that’s so good.” Indrid holds him tighter, sinks his fangs a little deeper, and Duck realizes he’s wet enough that he can feel it dripping down his inner thigh.

“Fuck it” He tugs Indrid’s hair once and the vampire takes the hint, releasing his skin and watching him dreamily as he climbs fully into his lap and sinks down on his cock, bracing his hands on his shoulders.

“Good boy” Indrid gives him an iron-tinted kiss then latches onto the other side. Duck rocks his hips frantically, head tipped back in a full-throated moan. He’s so close again and he chases that feeling, desperate to show Indrid he can take whatever he gives him and come back for more, that he can match his desires.

His head droops forward at the next pinch of skin, and he sees himself through the haze of submission and delight clouding his eyes. The bruises are bright on his arms and chest, his muscles strain with the effort of meeting Indrid’s demands. In spite of the vampire’s precision, Ducks body and Indrid’s face are both smeared with red, which ripples and flexes as his skin does with every meeting of their bodies. 

“Ohfuck” He throws his arms around his husband. Indrid licks his fangs as Duck tightens around him. 

“Well, sweet one, have I made my case for why you should give yourself to me utterly?”

“Yep. I’m all yours, give you whatever you want, just wanna be yours, Indrid, wanna take whatever you give, be so good for you.”

“Wonderful. Do you know what I want now?” 

“Wanna get married?” Duck bounces his eyebrows. 

Indrid smiles, “A bit late for that, though the answer remains the same as the last time you asked me and when I was asked to confirm it this evening. No, my sweet little human, what I want now is to hear you  _ scream _ .” 

Duck hits the bed, sound of surprise muffled by Indrid’s mouth as he fucks him. He squirms, body alerting him to the fact that his dick can only take so much. 

“What’s wrong, dearest? Sensitive?”

“Uh huh, fuck, darlin I love it but I ain’t sure how much more I can handle.”

“Then I shall expedite things.” A flash of a smile and then searing, exquisite, familiar pain as his teeth sink into Duck’s neck. He screams and his is legs fall wide open, Indrid pressing on one thigh for leverage as he thuds into him, his moans shooting into Duck’s veins and making him feel like the most divine being in the world. 

There’s a final burst of pain as Indrid sucks hard and cums deep, Duck unable to do anything take it and thank him in weakening gasps. 

Indrid sits up, wiping his mouth on his arm, satisfied and glowing. 

“I will be right back, love.”

Duck holds still, having learned the hard way that when Indrid takes from multiple points, sometimes he can’t get the wounds to clot all the way and they end up having to do even more clean-up. 

“Room service! I have always wanted to say that.” Indrid beams as he holds a silver tray with leftovers from the wedding dinner. He sets it down in front of Duck, retrieves a basin of water and cloth along with bandages, and clambers back on the bed. He’s humming again as he checks the bites and cleans Duck up, pausing to take the forkfuls of cake Duck offers him. By the time he’s done, his kisses taste like frosting. 

Duck gets his feet to cooperate long enough for Indrid to strip the stained blanket and toss it into the hamper, then crawls under the covers and waits for a chilly body to join him. 

“Have I mentioned lately that I love you?”

“Darlin, we got married tonight, was kinda takin that as a given.” Duck pulls the vampires into his arms, adjusting the pillows for maximum comfort. 

“True, but still, one cannot be too careful. I love you, Duck Newton, and I do not want you to ever doubt it.”

“Way you look at me, not sure I could.” He catches his husbands chin, kissing him softly, “I love you too, Indrid.”

The vampire purrs, resting his head against Duck’s chest. They talk--as the last of the firelight dies down--of tomorrow’s plans, the winters celebrations, and next years' garden, while a the fall moon shines above. 

All is right with the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading! 
> 
> I hope you'll find the next fic...divine.


End file.
